


of Redemption and Inebriation

by Emmilyne



Series: Locksleyverse [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mostly appropriate alcohol use, OFBB 2016, Olicity Fic Bang 2016, Smut, Tequila, cannon appropriate angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:56:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 50,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7931977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmilyne/pseuds/Emmilyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five chapters, five dates bring Oliver and Felicity back together after Darhk’s attack in the city.  And maybe some lubrication of the alcoholic variety to smooth the way.</p>
<p>
  <img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Date 1:Tequila

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is rated “M.”  Warnings for too much tequila, drank with lemon (because we had lemons when I was in college, not limes), an appropriate amount of angst, and an inappropriate use of the Salmon Ladder (But not too inappropriate.  Yet).
> 
> Also, I feel oblige to say don’t try this at home unless you are 21.  Unless you are in a country where you don’t have to be 21.  Then have at it.
> 
>  
> 
> Authors note:
> 
> This is my first time participating in a Fic Bang or any fanfiction event and it’s pretty exciting.  I’ve been obsessing over it so long I can’t actually believe it is actually here.  As part of the event [**raynadrawssomestuff**](http://raynadrawssomestuff.tumblr.com/) made me the beautiful cover-art that you see here.
> 
> When I initially signed up for OFBB the story I was planning to write was _To Sacrifice the Sun (_ which, hopefully, at least some of you are reading).  It took me weeks to realize that there was no way that would be finished in time.  Luckily, it was also just before the season 4 finally.
> 
> This story was written in a great cathartic burst starting the day after 4x23 aired until the end of June…48000 words people.  It is a simple reconnecting story between Oliver and Felicity, hopefully, fun and fluffy, with a side of angst and a dose of smut.
> 
> It was written before any of the Season 5 spoilers were even hinted out.  There contains no speculation and (from what I know of season five) will most _definitely_ be AU as of October 6.

**_June 1, 2016_**

Felicity stood in front of the intercom in the workout area of the Bunker and blew out a breath, trying to gather her courage as well as her thoughts.  Once she pressed that button she’d have to say something.  Not something particularly exciting or intelligent.  But _something_ …and, sometimes, the first word was really, really hard.

Bouncing on her feet, Felicity shook out her hands and stretched her head from side to side. God, it was like she was preparing for a fight.  What an odd metaphor considering her true goal here.  But maybe there was a fight.  It was just being fought entirely within herself.

There was a sheet spread out on the sparing mat, the take-out she had bought still in the bags in the corner.  Felicity had considered lying it out all proper like, but that would look too much like she was planning a romantic picnic or, God forbid, a seduction.

Of course, that was kinda sorta exactly what she was doing…

Well, not really.  

But, _yes_ , really. 

Ahh!  Felicity was making her _own_ head hurt.

There was schism inside _her_.  Only it wasn’t between light and dark…oh, maybe it was.  It was between was anger and love.  Fear and hope.  Self-preservation and a promise of something more.  Something better.

There was a war being waged inside Felicity.  On one side, the part of her who was still hurt and… _furious_ at Oliver for not telling her about William.  For not telling her the very _second_ he _suspected_ he had a son.   

That part felt that as a strong, independent woman she needed to _stand her ground_.  That the only way she should even _consider_ letting Oliver back into her life was if he fought for her.   _Won_ her back.  Proved that he had changed.  Maybe even groveled a little.

Then there was the part of her who…just…wanted Oliver back already.  Who was so _tired_ of being alone when the man she loved was _right there_.  Being the man Felicity always knew he could be.  Being strong and wonderful and _good_.

Felicity forced herself to hit the intercom button before she lost her nerve.  Again. 

“Oliver.”  It came out as a soft (pathetic) squeak.  Felicity quickly cleared her throat, saying louder, “Oliver.”

Almost immediately, he responded, “ _Felicity?  What are you doing in the workout area?”_

Felicity laughed.  It was an odd, self-conscious sound and…what the _hell_?  Ugh.  “It’s the only place that isn’t covered in gazillions of pieces of shattered glass.”  Which was why she chose this area for their picnic, among other reasons.  “And that includes our… _the_ Loft.”

“ _Oh_.”  There was a pause, then a soft, “ _I’m sorry.  Did you need help cleaning that up?  I can come over…?_ ”

There Oliver went, being all perfect again.  Tying Felicity up in knots. 

“No.”  Wait.  What was she saying?  Refusing his help was not going to get Felicity anywhere.  Certainly not anywhere she wanted to go.  “You know what?  Yes, I _would_. That would be nice, actually.”  What was with the butterflies?  This was Oliver for frak’s sake.  She rubbed her damp palms against her jeans.  “Maybe tomorrow?”

“ _Sure_.”

“But, um, right now, I, well, got us some dinner and I thought, maybe, we could eat down here. Where there was no, you know, debris?” 

There was only the slightest beat of silence on the other end which, apparently, Felicity couldn’t handle because she started babbling, _again_ , “Don’t worry it’s take-out.  My cooking plus kitchen covered in glass almost certainly deadly and given that we just survived a near-nuclear holocaust…”

And now she was back to doing that _thing_.  That awkward, embarrassing _thing_ Felicity had always done.  How long had it been since she had babbled uncontrollably like this with Oliver? Not long enough.

Felicity was nervous.  Really, _really_ nervous.  And Oliver was going to know it.  He knew her too well not to.

“ _I’ll be right down_.”  Oliver’s voice sounded rough.  Hesitant.  But Felicity refused to analyze it any further than that.

Okay, then. 

She turned and stared at their dinner, still stacked up neatly in the take-out bags.  Maybe Felicity should stop standing there like a fool, wringing her hands together, and lay out the food.  It was stupid to just wait, frozen.

But Angry!Felicity wouldn’t let her move.  She was still upset that Felicity was the one extending the olive branch to begin with.

“Shut up!” Felicity muttered to herself, knowing it was insane and not even caring.  “You’re the one who got us into this mess in the first place.”

And it was.  It was Felicity’s own fault that it wasn’t Oliver setting up any olive branch picnics.  _Her fault_ that he wouldn’t even lay a hand on her shoulder in comfort as they tried to save the world.  Because, though she tried to blame it on a depersonalized multiple personality, it was still _Felicity_ who had cut off things with Oliver so efficiently, so completely.  Who had crushed any hope he’d had left.

And now there was no chance that Angry!Felicity was going to get her little fantasy: Oliver wooing her, while she threw him crumbs and made him work for every bit of her attention.

Because there was _no part_ of Felicity that didn’t want Oliver back.  Not anymore.

But Oliver held himself at a careful distance.  Respectful.  Kind.  Seemingly grateful to have her back in his life in any capacity at all.  Not making any move that could be interpreted as romantic in nature, be it touch or action or gesture.  Felicity would almost worry that his feelings had changed.  But it was there in his eyes.  The love.  The regret.  The longing.

But Oliver wouldn’t act.  Because Felicity had told him not to.  She had told him it was over.   _Forever_.  She had told him he was still that man on the island.  Told him to take that damn ring and never give it back to her.

God, how Felicity regretted that night.  She regretted every hurt, angry, confused word she had uttered.  Because now Oliver was doing the right thing.  Respecting her wishes.

And Felicity wanted to scream.

“What’s this?” Oliver asked, strolling in, completely unaware of the battle for sanity being waged in Felicity’s head.  And why would he?  He was just coming down to have dinner with an old friend.  Like before.  Like they had never been lovers at all.

Only _before,_ Oliver would have touched her.  Friendly, casual touches.  He wouldn’t have carefully chosen to sit where he couldn’t _accidentally_ touch her. 

Rubbing his hands together, Oliver gracefully sat cross-legged on the mat.  He was still in his dress pants and shirt, the sleeves rolled up, having just gotten back from a long day at City Hall.  He looked delicious.  But he always looked delicious.  Which was just so unfair.

“I was in the mood for Mexican,” Felicity told him, because she had to speak, right?  Speaking was a thing?  She mirrored his position, sitting across from him.  And, unlike Oliver, close enough to accidentally touch.  She was all about the accidental touches.  “So…take-out.” 

Annnnnd that wasn’t awkward.  _At all._

Oliver’s eyes lit up, but, unfortunately, in a Yay!Food way not a Yay!Felicity way.  She was an expert on both looks, so she was well-versed in the difference.  “Sounds great.”  He grabbed for a bag.  Clearly, he wasn’t seeing this for what it was.  Felicity _knew_ she should have set out the food.

In actuality, Felicity had chosen Mexican because it went well with what was in the brown paper bag that she kept carefully concealed at her hip.  The Jose Cuervo.  It was the heart of her plan.

Oliver wasn’t going to approach her until Felicity told him it was okay.  And subtle wouldn’t work.  She had already tried subtle.  She was going to have to spell it out for him.  Damn it.

But her pride and… well, she just wasn’t ready to flat out tell him she wanted to try again.  It was quite the conundrum.

So…tequila.  It wasn’t the most mature solution.  But it was a solution.

Felicity really hoped that the tequila would be what it took to grease the wheels, relax them both enough for…something… _anything_ to happen.  _Some_ movement across the schism of nachos and burritos piled between them.

“So, how was City Hall today?” Felicity asked, because…oh, she didn’t know why, but at least it got him talking.

Oliver immediately launched into a diatribe about budgets and safety concerns and rebuilding projects and…

He was such a _good_ man. How could she have told him he wasn’t?  Oh Oliver made mistakes.  _Big_ mistakes.  But…

Curtis had told Felicity that she had overreacted.  And that night, the night after Cupid, that was _more_ than an overreaction.  That was a wounded animal lashing out, saying anything she had to to achieve the distance she had needed to survive.  But, now, she really wished she had found another way. 

Felicity was only half-listening to Oliver’s plans to rebuild the city.  But he looked really enthusiastic, so she painted an interested look on her face as she nibbled on her burrito.

Had the _break up_ been an overreaction?  Felicity really hadn’t thought so.  Had her mother taking her and leaving her father been an overreaction?  She had _no_ idea.

But Curtis had the healthiest relationship out of anyone she knew, so his advice had to count for something.  And, while Felicity spoke like a relationship expert at times, she was anything but.

Maybe there _had_ been a third option, something that wasn’t breaking it off completely _or_ forgiving Oliver outright.  At the time, ‘working it through’ had felt too much like giving in, like excusing his behavior, but maybe it wasn’t that black and white.  The only thing that was clear was that Felicity had no idea how to function in a healthy relationship.  And _neither_ did Oliver. 

Tequila probably _wasn’t_ the answer to that, but…maybe it could be a start? 

What was Felicity _thinking_?  Tequila and healthy didn’t belong in the same sentence.   But, then again, giving up was _not_ an option either.

Felicity realized that Oliver was asking her a question.  Maybe she wasn’t _half_ paying attention.  Maybe she wasn’t paying attention _at all_.

“Hmmm?” Felicity asked innocently, trying to sound as if she hadn’t just drifted off into outer space.

“I said…” Oliver frowned, his eyes running over her.  “Felicity, are you okay?”

Not really.  “Mmhm.”

Oliver took a breath and then made a very visible decision to let it go.  His face relaxed, but that little crinkle remained between his eyes.  “Did you get us some drinks or should I grab us some water from—?”

“Actually…”

This was it.  Show time.  Heaven help her.  Felicity forced a smile and pulled the Jose Cuervo out of the bag.

“Tequila?”  Oliver let out a bark of laughter, looking completely… _shocked_.  “That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but… _tequila_?”

Felicity was really starting to wonder if this had been the best idea.  “I figured after the week we had…” Oliver raised his eyebrows.  He wasn’t buying this.  Couldn’t he just work with her?  Pretend that this _wasn’t_ completely out of the ordinary for them?  “We haven’t celebrated you becoming mayor.”  Maybe?

Oliver tilted his head and it was as adorable as it was unnerving.  “Isn’t that more of a champagne occasion?”

Like engagement parties?  Uh… _no_. 

“You win an election: Champagne.  You get placed as interim Mayor after the world almost ends and most of your friends and family leave town,” Felicity held up the bottle, “Tequila.”

Oliver laughed and it wasn’t even _at_ her, so Felicity was finally able to relax.  Maybe this was going to work after all.  

“Good point,” Oliver agreed. “Do you have…?”

“Lemons?” Felicity smiled and pulled out a zip-lock bag filled with sliced lemons.  Oliver nodded his approval. “And salt?”  Another zip-lock held a couple dozen take-out salt packets.

“Resourceful.”  Oliver was still chuckling, looking more calm than he had in a long time.  He actually looked up for this.  So… _phew_.  First obstacle cleared.

“And…” Felicity reached into the bag and pulled out the last items, two shot glasses.  She was rather proud of them, actually.   Turning them outward, she clinked them together and grinned as Oliver let out a bark of a laugh.  “So it turns out, Green Arrow action figures hard to find.  Green Arrow shot glasses?  Not so much.  What does that say?”

Oliver grabbed the tequila bottle and twisted open the top.  “That I’m the _grown-up_ super hero.” 

Then he winked at her.  For real.  Winked.   _At her_.  And it had been so long since he done that…it felt like Felicity had already done a shot, or four, the way her whole body grew warm. 

But Oliver hesitated before pouring.  “You sure you want to do this?  The last time we had tequila,” his voice dropped an octave and Felicity had to suppress a shiver, “I had to carry you home.”

That was the plan. 

Felicity smiled.  “That was a good night.” 

Oliver froze, he had been trying not to meet her eyes, but at those words they jerked to hers like a magnet…wow, that was over-dramatic. 

“Yeah, it was,” Oliver murmured softly. 

But maybe it wasn’t over-dramatic, because the look Oliver gave her…it had been forever since he had given her a look like that.  Oh, he looked at Felicity with love all the time, but that was usually mixed with sadness and regret.  This was heat and…

Felicity held the eye contact as long as she could, encouraging it.  It was Oliver who finally looked away.  Though, he _did_ start pouring the shots so she counted it as a win or at least not a …lose.   

She distributed the lemon and salt.  Then, licking the back of her hand, Felicity sprinkled on a packet of salt, careful to look at him through her lashes as she did.  Oliver had to clear his throat before doing the same.  Not the lashes thing.  Unfortunately.  The salt and licking thing.  But one step at a time. 

Oliver held up his glass and Felicity pressed hers to his.  “To…” 

‘Forgiveness’ Felicity almost said, but that was admitting _way_ too much and she hadn’t even had a single shot yet.  Confessions needed to wait until she could blame the tequila. 

“Redemption,” she said instead…except, crap, that wasn’t right either.

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up at her word choice.  Of course, they did.  The man wasn’t stupid.  “Redemption?”

What was she _doing_?  How was a fancy word for _earning_ forgiveness any less obvious?  Felicity tried to cover it with a shrug.  Then quickly tasted the salt and threw back her shot, hiding her expression behind a wedge of lemon.  Oliver followed suit.  So, either he bought it, or he was equally invested in hiding behind citrus fruit.

Once the fire of the tequila started to spread (And it wasn’t long.  Oliver was right in implying she was a light weight), Felicity was able to answer his half-asked question, saying, “It’s just something I’ve been thinking about.  Working with my dad.  Cooper doing the right thing in the end.  Maybe no one is beyond redemption.” 

Felicity held up her glass for him to pour again, trying for an innocent smile.  But Oliver got a strange expression on his face and she could see his shoulders tense.  His face fell and a haunted look settled in his eyes as his gaze fell from hers. It took her a full minute to figure out what she had said that would make him act so weird.  When she did…

Well, wasn’t that just _great_?  How had Felicity gone from implying she wanted to forgive him to dredging up his bottomless guilt abyss? 

“If you’re even considering thinking Damian Darhk could have been redeemed you can stop right now.  I don’t even think he counted as human anymore.”

Oliver huffed out a breath and his posture unwound somewhat.  He gave her a small smile as he poured more light amber liquid into her shot glass.  “I suppose not.” 

But, when Oliver licked his hand for the second time, it was clear that he was putting effort into trying _not_ to be sexy.  Damn him.  What was the point of Jose Cuervo if one was going to be reserved?  What kind of former frat boy was he?

“Hey.”  Felicity shifted so that their knees touched, the lemons and salt sitting between their crossed legs.  Maybe she needed to be _less_ subtle.  “I wasn’t talking about crazy megalomaniacs out to destroy the world.  I was talking about people like… _us_.” 

Eyes jerked to hers.  Eyes so intense she was sure they could see straight through her.  Felicity actually caught a glimpse of Oliver’s pulse jumping.  _Finally,_ he was getting it.  Was it too much to ask that he get it _without_ her having to _say_ it?   

Felicity lifted her hand and as _deliberately_ sexy as she could manage, she licked the back.  As far as she knew, she looked ridiculous.  She wasn’t a naturally sexy person.  If it weren’t for that first shot, she wasn’t even sure she could keep this up, but Oliver’s nostrils flared so she mustn't be doing _too_ bad.

She raised her glass again.  “So…to redemption?”

Oliver smiled, unreservedly this time.  “To redemption.”

The second shot hit her harder than the first and Felicity shuddered as it burned her throat and her eyes teared.  Even with the lemon, it tasted terrible.  What was it about tequila?  Something about the ritual, the sensuality of it all, made her forget the taste and kept her coming back for more.

And then there was the warm haze that was now spreading throughout her body, filling her mind, calming her anxiety and her racing thoughts, leaving a soft buzz of pleasure in its wake.  Yup, the (horrible) taste… totally worth it. 

It was a very nice start.  Felicity reached for the bottle again. 

“ _Whoa_ there,” Oliver cautioned, lifting the bottle out of reach, “unless you’ve become a drinker in the last two and a half months, maybe you should take a short break.”  Felicity frowned at him, starting to get irritated when… crap, he gave her the puppy-dog eyes.  “At least, let me catch up,” the manipulative bastard pleaded. 

“Fine.”  Felicity knew it was a ploy to get her to slow down, but she wanted Oliver drunk as much as she wanted herself drunk and it would take him at least twice as much, so...

Oliver pushed a tray of Nachos Grande at her.  “Eat.”

Felicity bristled a little at the command, but the puppy-dog eyes were super powerful and Oliver wanting to take care of her was a step in the right direction, wasn’t it?   

She rolled her eyes, but she picked up a chip, her eyes following Oliver’s movements carefully as he licked his hand…it wasn’t _super_ sexy yet, but he was no longer trying _not_ to be sexy…so win.  Also, the play of his muscles, the line of his throat as he threw back the shot and bit the lemon…mmm. 

Felicity remembered what those lips tasted like.  She even remembered how they tasted with tequila and lemon.  The urge to test how accurate her memory was built as her muscles loosened and the liquor washed Angry!Felicity further and further into the background.   

Much more important was the recollection that the last time they had done tequila shots they had been licking the salt if each _other’s_ bodies.  How many shots would it take to get them back to that point?

Felicity grabbed the bottle again and Oliver’s hand shot out to cover hers.  It was the first time he had initiated a touch for non-lifesaving reasons since Cupid and it made her kind of melty inside. 

“Just one more,” Felicity murmured, wondering if her voice sounded as warm as it felt.  “Then I’ll take a break.”

Oliver hesitated a moment, but he eventually gave her an indulgent smile and removed his hand, allowing Felicity to pour two more shots. 

After her third, and Oliver’s fourth, shots, Felicity was ready to climb on his lap and lick salt off his… _everything_.  (She really was a lightweight). 

Angry at him?  Why on _Earth_ would Felicity be angry at him?  He was so _pretty_.  And he took such good care of her.  And his hands were so…

 _Not_ touching her.  Blech.  Oliver did _not_ look ready for lap climbing. What was wrong with him?   Come to think of it, _that_ was as good a reason as any to be angry with him. 

“Catch up,” Felicity ordered, pushing the bottle toward Oliver and patting him on the leg.  After that, the effort it took to remain sitting seemed like a _total_ waste of energy so she flopped onto her back.  This was a rather comfy mat, which was good because sometimes people fell on it and…stuff.

Oliver chuckled, because _apparently_ she was amusing.  Felicity couldn’t remember if that was a good thing or not, but she really didn’t want to remember _anything_ , so she closed her eyes and enjoyed the not thinking.  She heard the sound of more liquor being poured and she smiled.

Cracking her eyelids open, Felicity placed her bare feet in Oliver’s lap and watched as he froze, then quickly threw back his drink with a gulp.  His hands fell to her feet and, for a brief moment, it looked like he was going to rub them, give her a foot massage or something wonderful like he use to do…but his hands fell away and…

God _damn_ it.

Felicity rolled onto her belly in frustration.  She was absolutely terrible at seduction.  It was official.  She known that, of course.  Hence the tequila. 

But tequila was failing at its main objective.  If it didn’t shape up, tequila was _fired_.

Maybe this is what she got for counting on Jose over there to all the work.  Felicity should have swallowed her pride and done the whole ‘ _mature’_ conversation thing instead. Blah blah blah.   That probably would have been the ‘ _healthy’_ way to handle things.

But so many _feelings_.  They just made everything so _messy_.  And so much could go _wrong_ …

Hey, look, the Salmon Ladder.  Felicity _loved_ the Salmon Ladder.  Oliver never did the Salmon Ladder anymore.  It was so sad.  It was probably because Oliver had stopped trying to seduce her. 

Stupid Angry!Felicity had ruined everything.  Also, stupid Respectful!Oliver.  Couldn’t he have been a little more _respectful_ when he found out about William and a little _less_ respectful now.  That was his problem, he always got things ass backwards.

Felicity placed her head on her fists and swung her legs back and forth, staring at the piece of apparatus that used to brighten up her Wednesdays.  Such an odd thing.  Such a work of art.  She hummed to herself as she remembered the click-clank of the bars and the sweating and the muscles and…she sighed…it had been hypnotizing. 

Maybe Felicity should ask Oliver to do it for her again.  No, she would _demand_ it, ‘cause he still needed to make things up to _her_ , goddamn it, and he should do whatever _she_ wanted!

“Felicity?”

Oliver placed a hand on Felicity’s calf and that was _nice_.  He was such a nice man.  He had such nice hands.  Oooo oooo, she knew what she should do!

Felicity hopped to her feet.  Okay, more like dragged herself to her feet and then stumbled a little bit.  And, to be fair, that was only half the tequila’s fault, ‘cause she wasn’t the most graceful person, which was _so_ unfair because Oliver was _soooo_ graceful.  Maybe that was why he didn’t want to seduce her anymore?

No.  She was _not_ going to think those thoughts.  Oliver _did_ want to seduce her.  He just didn’t think he was allowed.  Probably because a few weeks ago, he totally was _not_ allowed and he just didn’t realize that things had changed.  That was why Felicity was seducing him.  Or tequila was seducing both of them.  Right.  Now, that they got that clear...

Walking straight (or as straight as she could manage) to the Salmon ladder, Felicity grabbed onto the bar.  It was on the lowest rung, about up to her chin. 

“Show me how to do this,” Felicity asked and it was decisive and everything.  She was pleased with the tone, not quite demanding, but certainly firmer than a request. 

Also, the plan was starting to sound very good.  A sound plan.  Oliver would probably have to touch her and her shirt was flowy and might possibly come up—

“Felicity, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Excuse _her_?  Felicity turned and fixed Oliver with a glare that made him wince.  Good.  No arguing from the peanut gallery. 

“Are you saying I can’t _do it_?” she accused.  “I’ll have you know that Paul has been having me do Pilates.”  Felicity ducked under the bar and adjusted her grip, so she was facing Oliver with the bar between them.  “I can _totally_ do this.”

There was _no way_ Felicity could do this. 

Not without Oliver’s help.  Which was completely the point, because he’d have to put his hands on her body and…and the Salmon Ladder was sexy, so Felicity would look sexy on it…right?  Though, Oliver always took his shirt off.   Maybe she should take her shirt off.

“Fel-ic-i-ty,” Oliver said, doing that thing where he drew out the syllables.  She usually liked it when he did that, but not with this particular tone.  And he was getting up and he did _not_ look drunk, damn him.  “How about I show you when you haven’t been drinking?”

Well, she wasn’t going to _want to_ when she was sober, so that was just dumb.  Felicity gave Oliver a disgruntled look and pulled herself up onto the bar.  She took gymnastics it the third grade and she hadn’t even been terrible at it.  Not like ballet.  Or soccer.  Well, there was that one time she fell off the balance beam…

Oliver kind of lunged toward her as soon as her feet left the ground.  “Swe—Felicity!”

Felicity grinned triumphantly, both because she managed to lift herself onto the bar, her arms straight and everything, _and_ because Oliver almost called her sweetheart, which he only ever did when they were alone and it their most intimate moments.  _Definitely_ a win.

Though, she forgot to take her shirt off.  Frak.

Oliver stopped a few feet in front of her, his hands up, looking concerned…or maybe ‘freaked out’ would be a better phrase…and unsure what to do next.  “O…K…  That’s very good.  Excellent.   _Really_.  Felicity, can you come down now?  Please?”

Felicity did _not_ like his tone.  It was rather condescending.  “I took gymnastics in the third grade,” she announced petulantly.  

“Yeah, your mom said…didn’t you fall off the balance beam—”

And before Oliver could say one word against it, Felicity threw herself over the bar just like her nasty old Russian coach taught her to do.  Huh, maybe _that’s_ why she didn’t like Russia...

“Felicity!” Oliver yelped.

She spun over the bar and her landing was…well, she didn’t hit anything.  Much.

“ _Felicity_.”  Oliver grabbed her arms, lifting her to her feet, steadying her.  “You alright?”

“Whoa.”  The world was kinda starting to spin.

“Do you need to throw up?” Oliver asked.  And though his voice was kind, that was _so_ not sexy. 

Did she _look_ like she needed to vomit?  Talk about unattractive.  So, _that_ plan was a bust.

“No, I’m fine.  Spinny, but fine.”

Oliver put his arm around her shoulders and Felicity leaned her head against his chest.  Okay, maybe there was _something_ salvageable here after all. 

“Let’s just get you away from the weights and the swords,” Oliver said, oh so sweetly.  Felicity liked his tone much better now.  “No, swords okay?”

“Mmmm.” 

Actually, Felicity was pretty happy right where she was.  She leaned her face against Oliver’s bicep and when he didn’t pull away, she turned toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling up at him.  Mission accomplished.  Yay, tequila!

“Felicity…? What are you doing?”

Okay, so maybe congratulations were a bit hasty.

Oliver was frowning down at her.  Why, of _why_ , was he frowning.  But… _tequila_.  Crap, she must have moved too fast.  He wasn’t drunk enough.  Damn his excellent metabolism and his huge, muscly body.

  _Also_ , Felicity was _not_ going to answer that question.  Nope.  Nada.  No way.  That was the point of the tequila, that she didn’t have to answer those sort of questions.

Where was that bottle anyway? 

“You need another drink,” Felicity announced, scowling.  She tried to pull out of Oliver’s arms but the spinny thing wasn’t gone so she had to hold onto his forearm because falling would be bad.  “It is so unfair that you’re completely sober and I’m like this after only 3 shots.”

“Oh, I’m _not_ completely sober,” Oliver chuckled, so apparently she had said that aloud.  Wonderful.  Maybe tequila and gymnastics were not the best combination after all.  “Felicity, _please,_ tell me what’s going on.”

Not gonna happen.  He had already gotten too much from her as it was.  Too much information.   Too much of her tattered pride.  Felicity yanked herself away from him and Oliver didn’t stop her.  Which was the _problem_.

“What’s _going on_ is that _you_ need another drink.  Actually, you know what, we _both_ need another drink.”  Yup, good plan.  More tequila would fix everything.  Ah there it was! 

“I don’t think that’s what you need _at all_.”

Felicity ignored him and, somehow, managed to balance two shot glasses, two lemon wedges, and salt in her left hand as she poured.  Sure, the lemons got a little tequila-y and the salt a little soggy, but she managed to stand up without (too much) spillage. 

“Yup, that’s what we need,” Felicity repeated as she regained her footing.  At least, she thought she repeated herself.  She couldn’t remember if she said that already or not.  It was really hard to figure out which things were said out loud and which weren't.

Oliver caught her elbow and forced her to look at him.  It was unfair that even his frowny face was so damn pretty.  “Felicity, why are you trying to get me drunk?”

She ripped the salt packet open with her teeth and handed it to him.  “Here, hold this.”

He took it, even as he protested, “I think you’ve had enough.”  Oliver did sound rather meek, though.  When he sounded like that Felicity usually got what she wanted.  So that, at least, was good.

Felicity licked her wrist and held it up.  “Pour.”

“Do you really need _more_?” Oliver was actually whining now, but he did as he was told.  Guess he knew what was good for him. 

“Yu _p_.”  Felicity held her salted wrist up to Oliver’s mouth, because, really, he needed it _so_ much more than she did.  “Lick,” she commanded. 

Their eyes locked and held…wow, courage much.  She couldn’t believe she was doing this.  Oliver’s eyes filled with heat and his breathing quickened.  He wanted to.  Felicity could tell he _wanted_ to.  The tequila wasn’t masking that.  But…

He didn’t, _wouldn’t_ do it.  Bastard.

In that moment, Felicity almost wished she had chosen to do this little experiment in a public bar.  She had the strong urge to find another man to lick her wrist.  See if Oliver liked _that_. 

“Fine,” Felicity snapped and licked the salt herself, throwing back a shot before Oliver could stop her. 

Once the lemon was in her mouth, Felicity might have questioned the intelligence of her little display.  Her whole body was warm and her brain was swirly-whirly.  Passing out was not part of the plan.  A lot had spilled, though, so maybe she would be okay.  Really, it was more the gymnastics fault than the tequila. 

Felicity held up the second, still full(ish) glass almost defiantly.  If Oliver called her bluff and she drank, she’d probably pass out and her humiliation would end anyway.  “If you don’t want it, I’ll—”

With a low growl, Oliver grabbed the glass and threw back the tequila, skipping the salt completely, which…yuck.  “Happy?”

No.  No, not really.  Felicity shoved the lemon into Oliver’s mouth and turned away, but her dramatic flounce didn’t go so well and she sank to her knees so she wouldn’t tumble the floor. 

“Felicity,” Oliver pleaded, far less growly now, “ _talk_ to me.”

“Don wanna.”  Since when did tequila turn her into a child?  It was all Oliver’s fault.  It had to be.  Maybe if she laid down?

Oliver let out a moan, as if he were in pain, and scrubbed his face.  “I’m trying really hard not to mess up here, Felicity.  You need to tell me what to do, because it feels like everything I’m doing is wrong and I’m _trying_.  You only just started to talk to me again and I…”

Great, this was not _at all_ how Felicity had wanted this night to go.  Now, Oliver was upset and _she_ was upset.  And they were both frustrated.  So she heaved a sigh and went with her gut, because her brain was soggy and unreliable. 

Felicity held out her hand to Oliver.  “Come `mere.”

Kneeling next to her, Oliver took Felicity’s hand and she took comfort in the fact that he didn’t hesitate.  “I’m getting some serious mixed signals here, Felicity.”

She let out a small bark of self-deprecating laughter and turned her head toward him, which only made the world spin a _tiny_ bit.  “Are they mixed?  _Are_ they?” 

Oliver cracked a tiny half smile.   He did that lip licking thing he did and Felicity’s eyes became glued to the movement of his tongue as he said, “Okay, I’m getting signals that are in direct opposition to everything you told me when you gave me back the ring the _second_ time.  And I don’t want a little tequila to mess up—”

“Ugh!”  Felicity threw her arm over her face. “ _That_ night.  Can we just forget _that_ night ever happened?” she blurted out.  It seemed the last of her faulty filter had been washed away with that forth shot.

And the silence that followed…not a hopeful response.  When Felicity dared to peek at Oliver, he was sprawled out next to her, leaning up on his elbow and staring down at her like he was afraid to breathe.

“Forget it?” Oliver croaked.

“Yes! Oh, please, _yes_ ,” Felicity burst out.  And a distant part of her remembered that she hadn’t wanted to say any of this.  Not tonight.  But that part no longer had any control of her voice.  “I wish I could just erase that day.  It hurt so much and the things I said…and I think I wanted to hurt you, because I was so hurt and I didn’t mean most of it, well, I meant it at the time, but most of it was really stupid and untrue and I wish I had never said the majority of it…”

What was _wrong_ with her?  Had liquor always given her verbally diarrhea?  And if it did, why didn’t she remember that before she came up with this stupid plan?  “And now I’ve gone and said all this _stuff_ ,” Felicity moaned.  “I really didn’t want to talk about any of this tonight.  I wanted to drink and relax and flirt and pretend none of that happened, so we could…” 

Oh _crap_ , that was even worse.  Felicity bit her lip to keep any _more_ stupid words from tumbling out.

“Alright.”

Felicity’s eyes jerked to Oliver’s face at the whispered word.  “Alright?”

A slow smile spread across Oliver’s face.  “Felicity, on my top ten nights I wish never happened, that night is much higher than it should be.  So I’m all for pretending it didn’t happen.”

“Oh good…”  So maybe the verbal diarrhea wasn’t sooo terrible, if Oliver…    “Hey, where are you going?” Felicity pushed herself up to a half-sitting position as Oliver just up and disappeared.

Felicity was still trying to figure out what the hell happened when Oliver showed up again holding a water bottle.  “You need this.”

Sighing, Felicity dutifully took the bottle as Oliver settled back next to her, too grateful he was back too protest.  “You know this is half our problem,” she announced as she drank, hoping it would help… _something_. 

“Dehydration?” Oliver asked indulgently, lying back down next to her.  It might be the tequila, but he seemed lighter, somehow.

“ _No.”_ Felicity rolled her eyes, he could be such a dumbass.  “ _You_ being so damn _perfect_ all the time.”

Oliver laid his head on his hand and gazed down at her with a smile.  Finally, they were getting somewhere.  “I’m not sure I understand how that is a problem, so I’m going to focus on you thinking I’m prefect,” he teased.

Felicity smacked him for that, because there was no other appropriate response.

Oliver gave her his obligatory, “Ow.” 

But…was he flirting?  It looked like flirting.  It sounded like flirting.  But, maybe, that was the Jose Cuervo.  And it was okay if Oliver was flirting _because_ of the tequila, but not if Felicity only _thought_ he was flirting because of tequila.

“It _is_ a problem, you big idiot.  You with all your water getting, dinner making, perfect boyfriending.  It’s a _problem_ ,” Felicity insisted, not fully understanding why this was so hard for him to understand.  “We were the perfect couple and we had the perfect life.”  And, oh, how she missed it.

“I still don’t understand,” Oliver murmured, quiet and patient.    _Perfectly_ so.

“Because it’s not real life.  It’s not sustainable.”

Oliver’s smile faltered and he reached over to touch her…then stopped himself.

Ugh.  “ _Stop that!_ ” Felicity snapped. 

“Stop what?” Oliver froze, his free hand up in a sign of surrender, his eyes wide.

“The no touching thing!  It’s annoying.  I hate it.”  Okay, Felicity had to remember: Four shots of tequila equaled zero filter.  “You haven’t initiated a touch since _that_ night.  Not even platonically.  Before we were together, you used to—”

“Felicity,” Oliver sighed, “touching you isn’t platonic.  Not anymore.  Maybe not ever.  And I can’t pretend.”

“Then _don’t_ pretend,” Felicity almost yelled, liquid courage meeting frustration and shoving the words out.  “Just, please, _touch_ me.”  Ahhh, that might have come out more suggestive than she had intended.

But, luckily, Oliver didn’t seem to think so.  When he murmured, “Felicity,” it was like a prayer. His hand fluttered before it gently brushed her hair out of her face, his finger tracing the line of her cheek before it moved to grab her hand.  And the way he held it…it was two steps beyond gentle and it was wonderful.  “This alright?”

“Yeah.” Felicity squeezed his hand back.

“So…” Oliver licked his lips.  “We were too perfect, huh?”

“Yeah…” Maybe they should just lay here holding hands all night.  This was good.  Felicity could be content with this.  Actually, she’d love some kissing.  But if she started talking again who _knew_ what would come out.  “Though, you know….my brain’s a little fuzzy.”

Oliver’s small smile warmed her bones and Felicity wanted to climb inside and stay forever.  “Too much tequila.”

“Or not enough.  You want more…?”  Felicity suggested, but not for her.  She had had enough.  But for Oliver.  Maybe another shot and then kissing…

But Oliver shook his head, unfortunately, staying focused.  “I want to know how being perfect ruined everything.  And don’t tell me that was tequila induced nonsense.  Drunk Felicity is still smarter than everyone else in the room.”

“It’s depends who’s in the room.  What if—”

“Fe-lic-i-ty.  _Please_.”

“Fine,” Felicity folded like a deck of cards.  Damn irresistible man. “Right.  I dunno.  I guess I just meant…”  What _had_ she meant?  Now was not a good time for deep thoughts.  Oh, yeah, now she remembered.  “You know how neither of us have _any_ idea how a successful relationship works?”

“Well, _I_ didn’t…don’t…”

There he went, taking the blame.  “Oliver, my longest boyfriend before you just almost blew up the _world_.”

That made Oliver crack a smile.  “There’s that.”

“And my parents…did I tell you that my father didn’t leave us?  That my mother took me and left _him_?”

“No!”  Oliver pushed himself up.  “Oh my God, are you okay?”

Felicity waved it off with a flick of her wrist.  “It’s fine.” But…wait.  Maybe _that_ was her point.  “You know what.  Actually, I’m not fine.  I don’t know what I am, but I’m _not_ fine.”

Oliver nodded and brought Felicity’s hand to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes.  Yes, I do,” Felicity said firmly.  Because she’d actually given quite a lot of thought to how they might rebuild their relationship properly.  Considered every way he’d floundered.  Every way _she’d_ slipped up.  And her brain may be full of warm cotton, but she was pretty sure this was a step in the right direction.  “But not now.  I had a point. What was my point?” She was pretty sure she was on a roll here.  “Oh right…neither of us had any relationship role models.”

“True enough.” Oliver played with her fingers and relaxed back down on his side, smiling indulgently.

“So, it was like we tried to be this perfect TV ideal of what a couple _should_ be,” Felicity explained, very intelligently she believed, all things considered.

“ _Felicity_ , you know I don’t watch TV.”

“ _Oliver_ ,” Felicity mimicked his tone, slightly annoyed that he was arguing with her perfectly brilliant analysis.  “Just because you were marooned on an island for five years doesn’t mean that you are immune to the cultural ideal.”

“Those are some pretty big words for a drunk girl.”

“ _Hey_.”  Was Oliver making fun of her?  He may be getting _too_ relaxed.

“Are you claiming that I took my cue from _Leave It to Beaver_?” Oliver laughed.  

“No.”  That was just stupid.  “They were chauvinistic assholes.  _You_ were perfect.”  Duh.  Felicity sighed, remembering it all.  “The cooking.  And the cleaning.  And the supporting anything I said or did—”

“I wasn’t pretending, Felicity,” Oliver said quietly, the teasing note now gone from his voice.

“I know that.  I know.”  Why wasn’t Oliver understanding?  God, was she even making sense?  “But…maybe you were trying _too_ hard?  Because…there was also the never arguing…I mean, _I_ argued, but you almost never did.  You just stood by and took it, even when I was being a _total bitch_.  Never calling me out when I—”

“I’m sorry.  I...” Oliver started to pull away.  He looked stricken.  Oh God, no, that’s not what Felicity meant.  Having this conversation drunk was a terrible Idea. 

Felicity tightened her hold on his hand, putting her other one over top of it for good measure.  “No, I _loved_ it!  I did, it’s just that…Oliver, I think…I think William wasn’t the first lie either of us told.”

And…that just made it worse.  Because Oliver looked like Felicity had just punched him.  “I _never_ —”

“You _did_.”  Is that what she meant to say?  It was, but it was coming out all wrong.  “When you let me insult your intelligence anytime I was in a bad mood.  When you said it was okay that I yelled at you for unfair stuff like texting my mom and—”

Oliver tried to pull away again, but Felicity just rolled closer.  Now that she started this mess, he had to hear her out.  He just had to.   

“And I lied too,” Felicity pleaded, “when…not just when I pretended not to be bored in Ivy Town, though that was the start.  It kept going.  We just kept pretending to be okay, to be _perfect_.  Because we thought we had to be, or because we thought that was what the other person wanted or needed or…I don’t know.”

“Felicity, I _never_ lied about how I felt about you,” Oliver hissed passionately, his eyes, so close to hers, becoming watery.

And Felicity nodded in vigorous agreement, thankfully the world had stilled enough for her to be able to do so.  “And I never lied about how I felt about _you_.  But I lied about being okay.  About being strong.  I wasn’t okay.  I think I was even lying to myself, because I _wasn’t_ okay.  Not when I was shot, not when you weren’t there after surgery, not when I was stuck in that damn chair, not when my father betrayed me…I _wasn’t_ okay.”

“Shhh shh,” Oliver hushed, his whole demeanor changing the longer she rambled on, shifting closer, wiping tears from her face.

Felicity hadn’t even realized that she had started crying.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry,” she babbled.  Because, God, _this_ was why she hadn’t wanted to start talking.  She was losing it.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Oliver assured.  “You don’t have to be _okay_.  You never did.”

“And you didn’t… _don’t_ have to be perfect.  You don’t have to walk on egg-shells around me, always afraid I’m going to leave—”

“But you did leave,” Oliver whispered.

And Felicity sobbed.  Because she _had_ and…God…  “I did and I don’t even know anymore…but I know that it wasn’t _just_ about your lie…though it _was_ a dozy…it was about the fact that with everything that happened I hadn’t cried…really _, fully_ cried until Laurel died.  And that you never let yourself be angry with me even when I deserved it.”

“You _never_ deserve it,” Oliver insisted.

“I do.  You know I do.” He had to, because if Oliver kept her on a pedestal this wasn’t going to work.

But then Oliver conceded, “Okay, maybe, sometimes,” and Felicity breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oliver, you see we built this house of cards.  And it was beautiful and it was intricate and lovingly constructed and…you, Oliver…my perfect Oliver…you were my base, my foundation, all my supposed strength was built on top of that.  So when I left, it was because…that lie, it was like pulling a card out from the very bottom.  I just crumbled.”

“Oh honey, I’m sorry.  I’m so _so_ sorry.” 

There were tears in Oliver’s eyes now and they tumbled over.  It was Felicity’s turn to wipe _his_ cheeks clean.

Her instinct was to say it was alright, but…she knew Oliver needed apologize.  He needed to say it and she needed to hear it.  Felicity just hoped he understood that she was also acknowledging that it wasn’t all on him.  It took two people for a relationship to fall apart.  And it would take two if they wanted to put it back together.

Finally, once both their tears had slowed, Felicity whispered, “Wow, for someone who didn’t want to talk about it, those were a lot of words.”  She still wasn’t sure if she was thankful they had escaped or if she regretted them.

But Oliver whispered back, “I’m glad,” and she leaned toward thankful.

“Can I blame it on the tequila?” Because now that Felicity was thinking about it, even if it was a good thing, it was also rather embarrassing.  She wasn’t even sure most of what she’d said made sense.  Actually, she was pretty certain it hadn’t. 

Oliver blew out a breath.  “That depends.  If it’s the tequila, does that mean you didn’t mean it?”

“Oh, I meant it.  The parts that were coherent anyway.”  Not that Felicity knew which parts those were.  But it was heartfelt, every ridiculous word.  “Though, truth serum was not what I had in mind when I bought the Jose Cuervo.”

All the pain had slowly melted off of Oliver’s face.  Which, by the way, had gotten rather close to hers over the course of Felicity’s drunken confessions.  Finally, a teasing smile spread across his lips.  “What _did_ you have in mind?”

Felicity scrunched up her face, confessing in a small voice, “Seduction?”

Oliver laughed out loud.  Then, just as suddenly, froze, seeming to realize it wasn’t _entirely_ a joke and asked, “Wait.  Seriously?”

Felicity pierced her lips and held up her thumb and forefinger to mime… _just a little bit_.  All amusement left Oliver’s face, replaced by—

His lips were on hers.

Felicity whimpered, her hands flying to the sides of his face, holding Oliver there in case he changed his mind.  Oh _God_.  She had been so _so_ worried that this would never happen again.  And his lips were as perfect as she remembered, a perfect that she would never complain about, and he was kissing her reverently, gently, his lips just barely moving over hers and—

Oliver pulled back.  “Is this okay?” he panted, looking a little… _terrified_ of her answer.

Felicity nodded vigorously.  “Yes.  Yes.”

She just barely caught a glimpse of his grin as Oliver fell back into her, more confident this time, moving rapidly past a reunion kiss…a reverent, oh-wow-this-is-actually-happening-thank-the-lord, savoring kiss… into a familiar slide and brush, a well-rehearsed dance.  It became a homecoming.

It was enough to bring tears to Felicity’s eyes.  She had almost thrown this all away.  How could she have been so careless with something this… _this_.

When Oliver tilted his head, Felicity knew exactly how to angle her head so that they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.  His lips didn’t have to pry hers open.  They moved in sync. 

Even with the alcohol, they were perfectly coordinated.  Maybe _because_ of the alcohol. Because Felicity’s mind was blessedly empty.  Empty of anything but Oliver and the warm hum of this beautiful pleasure, of their connection, of the taste of his tongue against hers.

Felicity could never give this up.  She was an idiot to think she could.  This was forever.

When Oliver pulled back it was with one last small kiss, then he rubbed his nose against hers in a gesture so familiar it made Felicity’s heart ache.  He rested his forehead against hers and licked his lips.  Like he was savoring her taste.

“So,” Oliver murmured, “I was thinking…if you’re up for it, I’d like to try _rebuilding_.  Only, maybe,” he licked his lips again, nervously this time, “with bricks and mortar instead of cards.”

Felicity smiled, taking a moment to just breath it all in.  It was going to all be all right.  For the first time in months, maybe more, she actually thought her life…could be _right_ again. 

“You know bricks are heavy?”

“I’ve got a strong back,” Oliver whispered, his voice thick.

That he had.  “And mortar is messy.”

Oliver’s breath hissed.  “You up for it?”

Was she ever.  Felicity smiled up at him.  “What’s a little mud?”

Oliver’s lips crashing back onto hers must have meant he approved of her response and Felicity hummed with a contentment that she’d forgotten existed.  But when she tried to pull him closer and deepen the kiss, he pulled back.

“You know,” Oliver whispered against her lips, his breath short, “if we’re going to take it slow and build a good foundation, that means we actually have to… _go slow_.”

It took Felicity a minute to catch Oliver’s meaning and when she did she groaned.  And, maybe, pouted.  “So…no seduction?”

Oliver smiled and, oh boy, dimples how she’d missed thee.  Felicity hadn’t even realized how much.  “I may not be a relationship expert,” he told her, “but I’m pretty sure that’s not first date etiquette.  I’ve messed it up often enough to know.”

Felicity hummed, stretching her arms and wrapping them around Oliver’s shoulders, considering.  “Is that what this is?  A fist date?”

“Romantic picnic.  Good conversation.  Great kisses.  A little too much booze.  Best first date I’ve ever had.”  And Oliver really looked like he meant it.

Giggling in a way she only ever did when she had _a little too much booze_ , Felicity agreed, “Well, it’s certainly better than our _last_ first date.”

“Shh, you’ll jinx it.”  But instead of putting a finger to her lips, Oliver stopped her words with his lips.  And this kiss may have lasted a little bit longer, started to get a little bit out of hand, and when it broke off, it was only so they could breathe.

“You _sure_ no seduction?” Felicity panted. 

“Not tonight.  No.” 

Though, Oliver looked as happy about it as she was.  His pupils were blown and he was rock hard against her thigh.  Felicity was pretty sure she could convince him.  Maybe.  He had a will of steal when he thought something was important.  And this was important.  The most important.

“Fine,” Felicity conceded.  “But date three.  That’s the rule.  Date three is the sex date.”

Oliver laughed and kissed her nose.  “As long as there _is_ a date three, I’m happy.”  He pressed a quick kiss to her lips.  “And a two and a four.”  Another kiss.  “And a twenty-five...”

There would be a date 3,025 if Felicity had her way.  “You’re already planning something over the top aren’t you?”

Oliver’s eyes lit up.  “It can’t be _too_ over the top, since in the spirit of making this work in ‘ _real life,’_ it’s going to have to be in imperfect, disaster ridden Star City.  No running off to Bali.”

“But... Bali,” Felicity sighed, pouting again, only half kidding.  She hadn’t realized Bali was on the table.  “I _love_ Bali.”

“I love _you_.”  And all teasing was gone from Oliver’s voice.

Felicity’s smile faltered.  Emotion threatened to overtake her.  “I don’t know if ‘I love you’s are first date protocol,” she whispered.

“Probably not,” Oliver agreed, though, he certainly didn’t sound happy about it.  “So what number date is ‘I love you’s?”

Felicity shrugged.  She wasn’t sure why she was setting this rule.  It was probably silly, given they were both so obviously in love, but…wasn’t this all about doing things in the right order this time.  They’d done things all over the place before and look how _that_ had turned out.

 “Fifteen, maybe?” Felicity suggested, throwing out a number almost randomly.

Oliver swallowed, asking in a hoarse voice, “Are promising me fifteen dates?”

Felicity thought, maybe, she should say ‘we’ll see how it goes.’ But a bigger part of her knew that the only way this was going to work was if they had a whole new level of honesty, right from the beginning.  And from here on out, she wasn’t going to be able to rely on tequila.

Nodding, Felicity answered, “It’s an open ended contract, with the option to re-up at any—”

Oliver’s lips slanted over hers. 

They were both breathless and panting when he gasped, “Maybe we should stop.”

“Uh uh,” Felicity protested, her head rocking back and forth, swimming from a whole lot more than alcohol.  “Kisses are _totally_ fist date protocol.  And I’ve been told that long make out sessions are a great foundation for long standing re—”

Apparently, Oliver didn’t need any further persuasion.

So, maybe, the tequila didn’t work out _exactly_ as planned.  And, maybe, Jose Cuervo _did_ taste a little bit like ass.  But as far as Felicity was concerned, from that day forward, it was always going to be her favorite.

 

 


	2. Date 3: Scotch, Neat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated “E.” Warnings for frank conversations about sex during and after paralysis, scotch used as anxiety medication, and a little red dress. Oh and there will be smut.

_Italian translations: I need you. I want you. Desire. Mine._

 

 

**_June 6, 2016_ **

The mussels were clean.  The bread was sliced.  The ingredients for the wine sauce was set neatly aside so they could be combined in a matter is seconds.  The lobster ravioli had been carefully crafted by hand and was in the refrigerator ready to be boiled, the water simmering for later use.  The ice cream for the Baked Alaska was scooped and shaped and waiting in the freezer.

Oliver blew out a breath and grabbed his tumbler of scotch, throwing back a decent sized mouthful.  He probably shouldn’t be making so many `a la minute dishes.  The Caprese salad, at least, was ready to go, but still, he couldn’t help but think he should have planned this better.

The problem was Oliver had wanted the meal to be both special and light.  Lasagna was great to make ahead, but wasn’t exactly the best idea for the _third_ date.  The date Felicity had declared the _sex_ date.

Not that Oliver was _expecting_ anything.  He could, and _would_ , wait as long as it took for her to feel ready.  But, the thing was, he had the distinct impression that _Felicity_ was expecting things.  And, on top of that, it wouldn’t _just_ be their first time together since the break-up.  It would also be their first time since…well, since she got her legs back.  And that idea stirred up so much inside of _him_ , he couldn’t even imagine what it was like for her.

Oliver swallowed the rest of the scotch in one gulp, feeling the warm wave that followed soothe his nerves.  Picking up the bottle, he checked out just how much he had drank.  Probably, more than he should have.  _Definitely_ , more than he usually would. 

It was rare that Oliver didn’t stop drinking before he felt much of anything.  But judging by the liquid heat spreading through his muscles and relaxing the considerable tension, he’d already left _that_ point while back.  He’d have to be careful. 

He wasn’t much of a drinker, not since the old days.  Oliver, actually, hated being drunk.  Hated losing control.  And absolutely _refused_ to drink to the point where it might affect his memory.  A potential blackout was as terrifying as it was unacceptable.  He had a hard time remembering why he had ever enjoyed it.   He used to think it _funny_.   It seemed so stupid now. 

But, luckily, Oliver was also a guy with a high tolerance, whether due to genetics or a holdover from his so-called college days, because it had allowed him to take the olive branch offered by Felicity in the form of Jose Cuervo and Green Arrow shot glasses, which just may have been one of the best decisions he had ever made.

And, because tonight… _tonight_ he needed something.

There was something about Felicity and _dates_ that made Oliver insanely nervous.  Like real, formal, _official_ dates.  Not hanging out and watching Netflix.  Or even bumming around Europe.  But when she dressed up and he dressed up and he showed her a good time and it was like…well, it just felt like there was a lot riding on it.  Like it was an interview or something.  Which was _insane_.  Because this was _Felicity_.    

But, also, it was _Felicity._  And she was giving him a second chance. Or maybe a third or fourth, depending on how he looked at it.  Regardless, Oliver really couldn’t chance messing this one up.  He had the distinct feeling that this was the last chance he was going to get.

Besides that, Felicity could change her mind at any moment.  Decide Oliver wasn’t worth the trouble and the danger and the…he poured himself another drink of scotch.  He wasn’t going to get drunk, but he didn’t want to mess this up by being tense or weird either.  Why was he only tense and weird when it actually _mattered?_

Oliver checked his watch.  Felicity should be there in 15-20 minutes.  If he started the mussels now, he could put them on low when she arrived and they would be perfect when they were ready to eat. 

Maybe he should have done something simpler.  Fancy dates usually ended in gunfire and explosions. 

But this place had been swept for bombs and bugs.  Oliver’s clothes too.  The coms were shut down.  There was no one who would dare interrupt them.  There were no current big bads in town, so…

But then again, maybe the real problem was that _this_ wasn’t _them_.  Their second date had been at Big Belly Burger and it had been great.  Oliver and Felicity had shut the place down, talking for hours and all after she had actually helped him find an apartment. 

Yes, Oliver had his _own_ apartment.  His first as a matter-of-fact.  Like a real grown-up, which he supposed a mayor should be.  It was a month-to-month lease and he really hoped it wouldn’t last long, but it didn’t feel like the crushing defeat it once would have.  The mayor couldn’t exactly get his mail at the Arrow Bunker and going slow to build a solid foundation meant no moving home…er, to the Loft.

Also, on the upside, Oliver now had a shiny new one-bedroom apartment that he could bring Felicity to tonight.  One their third date.  The _sex_ date.

This whole dating thing was fucking bizarre.  Who made these rules?  Who said date _three_ was the sex date?  Why not four?  Why not two?  Two was probably too soon…but even the counting was odd.

Oliver had had to be very careful as to what he counted as a date.  He didn’t want to get to date three too soon, which sounded _completely_ insane, even in his head, but date _three_ just couldn’t be lunch in the mayor’s office.  It had to be special.

And really, they were together _all_ the time.   Not necessarily alone, but together.  Either in the Loft, fixing the damage.  Or in the bunker…though that was a lot less than usual since mayoring post disaster #4 was time consuming.

The Bunker’s rebuilding had had to be left mostly to Curtis and Felicity.  Oliver showed up for the heavy lifting and quick patrols, just to make sure the city could see that the Green Arrow was still out there, watching, protecting the streets.  But his energy, right now, was better spent in City Hall.

And with Felicity _temporarily_ not in charge of _the company_ (Oliver refused to call it by his previous rival’s name, even in his head) he’d been able to bring her to City Hall to help.  (More non-date time together…not that he was complaining.)

At first, Oliver’s staff and the City Council had been put off by the idea of the new Interim Mayor inviting his girlfriend to private city matters…wow, she was his girlfriend again…thank _God_ …

But ten minutes of seeing what Felicity could do and the City Council had hired her as IT Consultant in rebuilding Star City.  It was a temporary position, but it allowed her to help the city and be near Oliver.

Though to be completely honest, what Oliver really wanted was a situation like he had had when he was CEO and Felicity had been at his side 24/7.  Maybe not as his EA, but…Chief of Staff, maybe?

Oh, Oliver knew it was time to put on his big boy pants.  He couldn’t run every decision he made for this city by his girlfriend…but, these were some pretty fucking big decisions he had to make and, sometimes, the idea that someone was letting _him_ make them seemed _insane_.

So…more scotch…?  Or no more scotch?  That was the question.  Maybe just a _little_ bit more. 

The mussels were starting to open so Oliver added the wine.  And, right on cue, the phone buzzed.

**Felicity:**

**This restaurant is closed.  Why is it closed?**

Oliver smiled.  The scotch was doing its job to relax him and Felicity was… _Felicity_.  This was going to be a good night.  He could feel it.  He would make _certain_ that it was. 

Not even bothering to waste time texting back, Oliver just turned the mussels down to the lowest setting, yanked off his apron, and grabbed his suit jacket as he walked briskly to the front of the restaurant.  He made certain his jacket and tie lie correctly before fumbling with the lock.  And when he opened the door…

God… _Felicity_ ….

Oliver knew he was standing there grinning like an idiot.  He could feel it on his face.  It was a look that Digg never failed to tease him about and one that made Thea roll her eyes in a pleased sort of way.  But he couldn’t control it even if he wanted to (and he didn’t want to) because Felicity…she had never looked this exquisite.

“I _thought_ this was the right place,” Felicity sighed, grinning up at him, her hands fluttering as she spoke.  “It looks different since, you know, it exploded, and, also, it’s closed, which seems really weird unless you bought the place out.  You didn’t rent the entire place, did you?  Because you are not a billionaire anymore, Oliver.  You keep forgetting that.”

“They’re closed today.  Antoine let me borrow the restaurant.  Perks of being Interim Mayor,” Oliver told her, still smiling.  All of the tension had drained completely out of him and Oliver thanked God for scotch. It may just be Felicity’s presence, but he thanked God for _her_ a least a dozen times a day. 

“Oh.  That’s good.  How did you—”

Letting himself follow his instincts, Oliver grabbed her expressive hands and pulled her inside, stopping her mid-babble.  Swiftly locking the door behind her, he pulled her into his arms to kiss those red, red lips.  Felicity rose to her toes to meet him.

They were alone, for _once_ , and he’d probably had a bit too much scotch, so Oliver kissed her longer than a simple welcome kiss demanded, opening her mouth and exploring her wonderful Felicity taste.

When she fell back onto the balls of her feet, Felicity licked her lips and Oliver watched the progress of her tongue.  She had the most amazing lipstick.  It never smeared.  And the best part, she never worried about _him_ smearing it.

“You’ve been drinking scotch.”  It wasn’t an accusation.  Felicity was smiling up at him, looking deliriously happy.  It made Oliver dizzy.  Far drunker than from his expensive liquor.

“Do you want some?” Oliver murmured, surprised at how deep and rough his own voice sounded already.  “I got Pinot Grigio for dinner, but—”

Felicity cut him off with a shake of her head.  “I only like scotch on _you_.”

Well, _that_ was an invitation if Oliver had ever heard one.  His hands circled her waist and he lifted her against him so that Felicity was able to meet his kiss half-way.  He made sure to slide his tongue over hers slowly and thoroughly, to make sure she got a really good taste of that scotch.

When this one ended, Oliver twirled a soft blond curl around his finger.  It was down in thick, chunky curls, only the top and sides pinned up loosely.  No glasses.   While he adored her glasses, sometimes, he loved her with her contacts, because her eyes were just so blue and there was nothing in the way of him getting lost in them.

“You look _gorgeous_ ,” Oliver sighed, breathing her in.

Felicity’s smile widened.  She looked incredibly pleased with herself.  It was a very sexy look on her if he did say so himself.  Stepping back, she spread her arms, giving Oliver a better view.  

“You like?  I figured since I’m not CEO anymore, I can be a little more risqué.” Then Felicity twirled, honest-to-God twirled, somehow, managing to look both bashful and bold at the same time.  “Of course, I hadn’t realized how much privacy we’d have.” 

And, Christ, Oliver got his first real look at the dress.  His mouth went dry.  There were no words.

It was red, because, of _course_ , it was red.  I was also strapless and tight to the waist where it flared out, falling to _almost_ mid-thigh.  Who was he kidding?  It barely covered her remarkable ass.  Thank _God_ , no one else was here.  And those legs…those long beautiful, miraculous legs seemed to go on forever and ended in the most delectable pair of strappy silver heels.

“I…Christ, Felicity.  I…red’s most _definitely_ your color.”

Felicity’s dimples peaked out and she crossed her arms behind her back, rocking a bit on her heals.  “So you’ve said.”

The implication...that Felicity had bought this dress with Oliver in mind, because she _knew_ he loved her in this color, while such a small thing, after everything, it just…seemed anything but small.  It filled him with warmth and pride and maybe a little bit of badly needed confidence.

Oliver held out his hand to her and he led Felicity to the single round table set for two, where he pulled out a chair for her.

Felicity smoothed down her skirt as she sat.  “I thought you were going to try to be less perfect?”

Smiling, Oliver poured the Pinot Grigio.  He was having a hard time taking that as a reprimand, particularly with the way Felicity’s eyes shined in the candlelight.  “I am,” he defended, though it was maybe a little lie, because _tonight_ perfect was definitely a goal.  Tonight was _important_.

Sipping her wine, Felicity tilted her head, as if considering.  “Well, I do believe you are failing.  Even the wine is perfect.”

Oliver chuckled and leaned down behind her to whisper, “Give me one night to be perfect, okay?”

Felicity tipped her head back and Oliver dropped a kiss onto her lips.  They had kissed in this position a hundred times when she was in the wheelchair.  But never since.  They’d only shared a handful of kisses _since_.  The memory brought a hard ball of emotion to his chest, making it a little hard to breathe.

“I’ll get our first course,” Oliver murmured, his voice coming out harsh and rough in the silent room.

He was almost at the door to the kitchen when he heard, “Oliver.”  Glancing over his shoulder he met Felicity’s eyes.  “Even if it isn’t perfect…it’s _perfect_.  You know?”

All he was able to manage was a small nod and an even smaller smile, before disappearing through the door.  There, Oliver gave himself a full minute to breathe and collect himself.  This evening was already turning out to be… _more_ than he anticipated.  There was so much potential.  He couldn’t let it fall apart because he was overwhelmed. 

One more gulp of scotch and he plated the first course.

As Oliver carried out the bowl of mussels and broth, he wondered if serving from one bowl was an overstep, but he’d chosen something they could eat with their hands on purpose and, well, it was more subtle than tequila at least.  He set the bowl on the table between them.  He’d carefully arranged the chairs next to each other, instead of across the table.

“That smells _amazing_ ,” Felicity moaned, leaning over and breathing in the aroma.  And that look, the look on her face right then, _that_ was why Oliver loved to cook. 

Felicity didn’t pause to mention the single bowl, or anything else for that matter, she just reached in and scooped up a mussel, bringing it to her lips and slurping it down with enthusiasm.  _This_ was why Oliver loved her.  One of the many, _many_ reasons.

“Mmmm.  Oh my _God_.”  Her eyes closed and her head tilted back just so.  What would it take for him to have this every night for the rest of his life?   Oliver would do _anything_. 

“What?” Felicity asked when she finally opened her eyes. 

No doubt, Oliver was staring at her like the love sick fool that he was.  He shook his head, smiling.  He really didn’t trust his voice.

“I skipped lunch, I’ll have you know.  Whether it was in anticipation of a big dinner or because of nerves, well…either way I might be a tiny bit ravenous,” Felicity told him, just this side of defensively.

Oliver chuckled.  If only Felicity knew what she did to him, she would know that the last thing she needed to be was nervous.  Clearing his throat, he managed to say, “I’m just glad you’re enjoying it.”

“For the record,” Felicity said, grabbing another shell, “I take back all my drunken ramblings about perfection and cooking being a bad thing.  Be as perfect as you want in the kitchen.  _Please_.”

The room Oliver wanted to be perfect in sure as hell in _wasn’t_ the kitchen.  And, maybe it was the scotch, but Oliver was having a really hard time taring his eyes from Felicity’s lips as she ate.  It was the sexiest fucking thing he had ever seen.  Any amount of effort the mussels took…totally worth it.

“You’re not eating,” Felicity accused, softly.  “Here.”  She scooped up a mussel and held it to Oliver’s lips, her other hand cupping bellow the shell to catch the drips of wine broth.  He wanted to capture that hand and lick every drop clean.

Oliver opened his mouth for the mussel and grinned as it hit his tongue.  They tasted exactly the way he wanted them to taste.  And Felicity was feeding him and smiling just as he had hoped she would.  This was about the time when a psychopath burst through the window, things were going _that_ well.  

But, _incredibly_ , that didn’t happen, so Oliver reminded himself that his bow and quiver were conveniently hidden in the hostess stand, before leaning forward to give Felicity a kiss.  She tasted like garlic and white wine and Felicity. 

After that, every morsel that graced Felicity lips came from his hand.  It was everything Oliver had been afraid to imagine.  More.

They finished the bowl like that.  With few words.  Only hums of pleasure as they fed each other and stole kisses in between and, for a time, the last few months just seemed like a bad dream.  It was almost too good to be true.

By the time they were done with the first course, Oliver was dizzy and breathless in a way that had nothing to do with either the scotch or the Pinot Grigio.  But he was extremely grateful for the pleats in his pants.

“I’m going to get the salads,” Oliver whispered against Felicity’s mouth, enjoying the soft, pillowy softness of her lips against his as he spoke.

“Do they require forks?”

Oliver chuckled.  Eating salad with your fingers did not seem sexy in the slightest.  “Ummm hmm.”

He pulled back in time to witness Felicity pout, which he adored far too much.  Oliver pressed one last kiss to that plump lower lip and stood.  Personally, he was glad for a course that required a little less contact.  Otherwise, he was never going to get through dinner.

But as he turned, Felicity called out, “Where’s the fun in that?” And it made Oliver grin.

The Caprese Salad only needed a drizzle of balsamic, so Oliver was back out the door and to the table in no time.  Felicity looked somewhat disappointed when he set down two _separate_ plates in front of them. 

He didn’t comment.  Though, it caused a rush of heat to spiral through his body.  He just picked up his fork and knife and began cutting the tomato and mozzarella.  “How did your meeting with Curtis go?” Oliver asked as he placed a bite in his mouth, doing his best to keep his voice normal.  Also, the homemade mozzarella was definitely worth the effort as well.

Felicity’s eyebrows shot up.  “ _That’s_ what you want to talk about?”  There was just enough of a leer in her expression to make Oliver’s cock twitch.

Carefully draping a napkin in his lap, Oliver nodded.   “If we want to get through dinner, then…yes.”

Felicity gave him a look, a not particularly pleased look, and shifted her chair so that their knees were touching, before slowly, carefully taking a bite of her salad and chewing. How the hell did she make eating salad look so damn sensual?  It must be the eyes.  Deep and intense and full of promise.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Felicity whispered after she had swallowed and licked her lips clean. Her tone sent electric shocks skittering across Oliver’s skin.

It was a very _good_ thing that Oliver was a patient man.  “Well, I may have hand-made lobster ravioli for the main course…”

Felicity’s eyes widened and her whole demeanor changed so fast that Oliver had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.  She sat back and a slow smile spread over her face.  “Okay then.  Conversation it is.”  She was so damn adorable.  “Actually, I have good news,” Felicity leaned forward with an entirely different kind of light in her eyes.  “Curtis quit Palmer Tech.”

Oliver almost dropped his fork.  “And that’s _good_ news?”

“Yup.”  Felicity almost glowed with excitement as she told him.  “Curtis told that soulless ass, _Dennis,_ and the rest of the board of mindless money grubbers that he refused to work at PT without me.  _And_ he took our four next best minds with him.”

“Wow,” Oliver breathed.  Just wow.  It was incredible and made him sort of glow with pride.  It also gave him deep satisfaction to _stick it_ to the asses who were now ruining his family’s company, but he couldn’t help but worry about these people’s families.  Could Curtis and Paul live on just Paul’s salary?

“Wait, that’s not even the best part.  Palmer Tech may have the rights to the battery and the implant, but _neither_ are ready for production.  And without me and Curtis to work out the bugs…”  Felicity’s grin was just a tiny bit evil.

Oliver shook his head, but he was sure his pride was obvious.  “Do you think they’ll ask you to come back?”

Felicity shrugged.  “If they don’t, Curtis and I have been discussing starting our own company.  Walter expressed interest in backing us.”

“Of course, he would.”  Anyone in their right mind would give Felicity any amount of money she asked for.  And Oliver wasn’t even exaggerating.  It was just a matter of fact and good judgement.  “Which would you prefer, your own company or to get back PT?” God, he hated calling it that.

Titling her head to the side, Felicity seemed to be considering.  “I’m not sure.  Palmer Tech holds the patent on the Implant and I want it to released.  But on the other hand, it would be _so_ awesome to tell them all to frak the hell off.”

They shared a wide grin at that.  They had both fantasied about flipping off that damn room of suits for years.  The names and faces changed, but not much else. 

Felicity put a careful bite of salad in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully before she turned her eyes to meet Oliver’s and asked, “What do you think?”

Oliver was a little surprise by the question, though he wasn’t sure why.  “What you should _do_?”  Felicity nodded.  “Whatever makes you happ—”

Felicity stopped him with a hand on top of his.  “No.  Not the good boyfriend answer.  I _know_ you’ll support me in whatever I decide.  I want to know what you _think_.  Because I value you your opinion and because we’re _partners_.  So…what do _you_ think?  Unfiltered.  Imperfect.  Your _honest_ thoughts.”

Blowing out a breath, Oliver placed his fork down and turned his hand over under hers to lace their fingers together.  Was this what normal, healthy couples did?  It felt like…not a test…oh, maybe it did feel like a test.  A test of this _new_ relationship.  The first time they really tried to make those subtle changes that were really huge.  To do things differently.

It was terrifying.  Oliver really wished he hadn’t left his scotch in the kitchen.

“Well…” Oliver started slowly, gathering his thoughts. “If you had your own company, you would have complete control.  Among other things, your schedule would be completely your own.  And that would certainly be better for our nighttime activities.”

“Wait, are we talking about Arrowing or our _other_ nighttime activities?” she teased, her eyebrows wagging.  Felicity trying to be suggestive was just the most adorable thing.  And it was pretty great that she was discussing _other_ nighttime activities like they were a foregone conclusion. 

“Both,” Oliver laughed, giving her a wink in the spirit of the moment, because this was already getting very serious and a little lightness was needed.  “Overall, it would be a lot easier to balance work and crime fighting if you and Curtis were in complete control of a company and we wouldn’t have to worry about hiding the trail of information or Tech or…anything.”

Felicity bit her lip.  “So, you think that I should tell them to shove it where the sun don’t shine if they ask me to come back?”

It was a satisfying image.  “As nice as that sounds...”  Oliver sighed, considering.  Well, Felicity had asked for his complete, unabridged thoughts.  “This might be selfish, but…”  


Felicity squeezed Oliver’s hand.  “I want to hear _all_ your thoughts.”

This was the scary part.  There was a reason Oliver was so guarded.  His thoughts were sometimes dark and scary, other times just self-centered.  He had no idea how Felicity would react to his _unabridged_ thoughts.

“So,” Oliver averted his eyes.  He couldn’t look at her while he said this, but he still held her hand tightly.  “I know it’s been _Palmer Tech_ for a while now, but…well, I’ll always think of it as my family’s company—”

“Of course, you do.”

Oliver gave Felicity a relieved smile.  If she hadn’t been okay with that part, he didn’t know how he could say the rest.  “And, well, with you in charge, it felt like it was still in the family.  Even after the break-up.  I knew the company was in good… _ethical_ hands.”

Smiling, Felicity titled her head and gazed at him softly.  “Why would you think that was selfish?”

Oliver pressed his lips together and groaned to himself.  If she could see the way it was in his head, she would understand.  “Well, because…because I really had hoped the company would have the Queen name again…that’s _not_ why I proposed,” he reassured quickly.  He really didn’t want Felicity to even entertain _that_ particular thought.

“I know that.”

The tender look on Felicity’s face kept Oliver talking. “It’s _selfish_ because I got to have my cake and eat it too.  The company was back in the family, but I didn’t actually have to run it…and I know it might seem like the Queen Legacy doesn’t mean anything to me, but I had thought…someday, if they were so inclined, our children might want to take over…”

It took Oliver a moment to realize that Felicity had suddenly gone stony and his stomach dropped.  She was frowning and… _actually_ , she looked stricken, almost devastated.  He just…he had no idea what was…oh, Christ what had he said _now_?

“You _do_ think it’s selfish.” Though _this_ seemed to be an over-reaction to _that_.  Unless, Felicity was starting to think she made a mistake by trying this again with him. “If you want to start your own company,” Oliver was quick to add, desperately trying to figure out what to say to make it better, “I—”

“Oliver,” Felicity seemed to be visibly gathering her strength, “you said _our_ children.”

Okay.  Now, Oliver didn’t know _what_ to say.  She didn’t want children?  They hadn’t spoken _that_ much about it, but they _had_ said someday and…now, he was really confused and his anxiety was climbing fast.

“I thought…” Felicity whispered, “I thought you didn’t want to have children.”

Oliver reeled back as if he had been slapped, but he refused to let go of her hand.  _He_ didn’t want children?  “What gave you that impression?”  He was pretty sure he had told her quite explicitly that he did.

Felicity’s mouth fell open and she shook her head in confusion.  “Oliver… you sent William away.  You said it wasn’t safe.”

“So, you thought that meant…” The pieces were starting to click together.  Oh _Christ_.

“That you were unilaterally making the decision to never have children.  Yes.”

“ _No_ ,” Oliver denied, because…well, it had never even crossed his mind that one had anything to do with the other.  How could he make Felicity understand that?  God, he really hadn’t wanted to talk about William tonight.  It was too raw.  Stirred up too many negative emotions.  But now he had no choice.

“Felicity…William was Samantha’s son.  She bore him.  She chose to have him.  She raised him and did it well.  She didn’t want him to be a part of this life.  I…I felt that was her right, that I couldn’t overrule that and force this life on him…on _both_ of them.”

Let that make sense.  Please, _God,_ let that make sense to her.

But Felicity looked away, her lip trembling, her eyes blinking rapidly.  “But you sent him away like…”

“Hey.”  Oliver caught her chin and turned it back to him.  “I didn’t abandon William.  And your dad didn’t abandon you.  We just both let their…your… moms chose what they thought was the best and _safest_ path.”

When her eyes met Oliver’s, they were full of tears, but Felicity shrugged and forced a lighter tone.  “At least, you left a video.  I’d have really liked a video when I turned 18.”

“But you have to understand it would be different if we had kids,” Oliver pushed on, his voice intense, not letting Felicity deflect.  He _needed_ her to understand this.  “And if you want complete honestly, I very much pray we _do_ have children one day.  And if we do, it would be _totally_ different.”

“How?”  A single tear escaped down Felicity’s cheek and Oliver was quick to reach out and catch it.  “They’d still be in danger.”

“But _we_ could take precautions.  They’d be under _our_ roof, under our protection.  _All_ the time.  We would be in control.  Overwatch and the Green Arrow know how to handle danger.  Samantha…she’s a…civilian.  What was I supposed to do, move her and William into the guest room at the Loft so we could keep them safe?”  


“Um… _no_ ,” Felicity’s voice was just shy of horrified.  And Oliver couldn’t blame her.   Having William with them would be one thing…having his ex-girlfriend, who had barely been a girlfriend at all, around all the time?  _Living_ with them?  That would be awful for Felicity.  For all of them. 

And how would they even begin to keep safe an adult and a stranger who was completely independent of them?  And how could Oliver allow his son to go home with her, alone, just the two of them, in a town where everyone knew that boy was the best way to get to him. 

Thankfully, Oliver could see in Felicity’s eyes that the wheels turning, see that she was starting to understand. 

“ _Exactly_.” Oliver sighed.  _He_ was also starting to realize that all this time Felicity wasn’t just angry at him for making decisions about _William_ without her. She though he was making decisions for _them_ without her.   “This is what you meant when you said that I should have come and talked to you before I sent them away, wasn’t it?  That we needed… _need_ to communicate and work together?”

The ridiculous part was that Oliver would have sworn that they had been great at communicating before.  His frame of reference was just _that_ warped.  He felt so stupid.  If he had just had a conversation with Felicity before sending William and Samantha away…would everything have gone differently?

“Yes,” Felicity confessed in a small voice, “but, I think…I think this is also why I should have _asked_.  I should have _stayed_ and talked.  Instead, I just gave up and walked away, without ever even asking for the full story.”

“You had good reason—”

Felicity shook her head sadly.  “This isn’t all on you, Oliver.  I made mistakes too.”

Oliver really couldn’t see how her mistakes came anywhere close to his.   “The first thing I should have done when I saw Samantha and a boy that looked to be the right age in Jitters was call you, before I even confronted Sam.  Later, on the porch of the Farmhouse, when you confronted me…I should have told you.  It was just one bad decision after another.  My only excuse is…it was so much and I was having trouble wrapping my mind around it, but I should have told you then.  Things could have gone so differently…you have no idea how sorry I am.”

Felicity ducked her head and brushed away the last of her tears, before whispering so softly Oliver could barely make them out, “I believe you.”  

“I, um…” Oliver cleared his throat.  Was there anything more to say?  He had no idea what else to say.  “I should go finish the ravioli.”

Untangling his hand from Felicity’s, Oliver grabbed their salad plates and headed for the kitchen.  He was feeling too… _raw_ to look at her right then.

In the kitchen, Oliver deposited the plates in the sink and rubbed his hands over his face.  Then, bracing his hands on the counter, he hung his head down and just breathed.  Scotch hadn’t prepared him for _this_.  And he had a strong feeling that more wouldn’t help.

Oliver had known that they would have to discuss everything that happened with William.  Eventually.  He just really hadn’t thought it would be tonight.  The reconciliation was just so new and…fragile?  Was it fragile?  God, he hoped not.  All he could do now was—

“Hey.”

Oliver jerked around to see Felicity standing in the kitchen door, leaning against the frame.  She gave him a small smile and answered his unasked question, “I was lonely.”

“Well, you never have…” Oliver’s first instinct was to throw out a flirtatious line, something about never being lonely around him, but he couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.  “Are we okay?”  he asked instead and he really hated with how desperate he sounded.

Felicity sighed, but her eyes were understanding.  “Oliver, you know I don’t have to _like_ everything you have to say.  I just want you to talk to me.  I just want the truth.”

Oliver licked his lips, his eyes searching her face.  He still wasn’t sure—

“But to answer your question…” Felicity held out her hands and Oliver hurried over to take them, grateful for the chance.  “Yeah, I think we’re _okay_.  Actually, I think we’re better than we’ve ever been in some ways.  It’s hard, but we’re trying and we’re doing it together and we’re being open with each other in whole a new way…do you understand?”  And for a moment, she looked just as lost and confused as he felt.

Letting out what sounded far too much like a sob, Oliver yanked Felicity into his arms and buried his head in her neck.  “Yeah,” was all he could say, “I think so.”

They stayed that way for a long minute, maybe more.  Then Felicity pulled away with bright eyes and an only slightly forced smile.  “I believe you promised me lobster ravioli and…” With a teasing push at his chest, she went over to the counter and hoped up onto the edge. “I think I’d like the full _Top Chef_ experience.”

Oliver knew very well that she was purposefully, _forcefully_ choosing to push the mood back over to the light side.  But even so, just looking at her, he felt the tension drain from his shoulders.  God, how he loved her.  It felt wrong not to tell her, but Felicity set the rules and he was going to follow them.  Date number _15_.  He was counting every stupid lunch date from here on out.

The fridge was in the other direction, but Oliver found himself stepping closer to her instead of toward the ravioli, pressing his lips to hers.  Because _that_ he was allowed to do.  Felicity’s hands came up to cup his cheeks and hold him to her and was it odd that only when kissing her did he feel like he could breathe again?  He didn’t deepen the kiss and he didn’t pull away.  He just drew her in like the first clean breath of air he’d had in months.

When he felt he had some semblance of control over his emotions, Oliver pulled back with a gentle kiss on her nose.  “So…ravioli.”

Felicity ran her fingers under his collar, loosening his tie.  “Yup, ravioli.”

With one last quick peck, Oliver forced himself to turn to the stove, turning the water up to a rolling boil before grabbing the ravioli from the fridge.  He could feel Felicity’s eyes follow him.  It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.  Not at all. 

“Is this what you’ve been drinking?”

Oliver glanced behind him to see Felicity examining his 15-year-old scotch.  “Mmhmm,” he hummed, smiling as he pulled together the ingredients.  There was something sexy about the harsh, masculine drink in her delicate hands. 

The corner of Felicity’s lips tipped up.  “Was it full when you got here?”

Oliver blushed.  There weren’t a lot of people who could make him blush.  Actually, there might only be one.  “Yup.”  Felicity was well aware that he was a deceptively conservative drinker.

Felicity chuckled, so apparently, she found his decision to indulge more amusing than cause for concern.  That was good.  “Nervous?” she asked.

Huffing out a laugh of his own, Oliver breathed, “You have no idea.”

Felicity’s soft, delighted laughter rang out through the kitchen and, maybe, he should be put off by her pleasure in his discomfort, but they both knew that this was important.  Nerves were high because it meant so much.

Felicity took a sip of the single malt scotch and fell into a coughing fit.  It was too adorable not to laugh as she made a face, setting the offending bottle as far away from her as she could reach.  “And I suppose this is the _good_ stuff?”

Oliver shrugged.   He scooped the ravioli into the boiling water.  “Not the best.  I can’t afford the _best_ anymore, but it’s pretty good.”  As rarely as he drank, he could splurge a little and not drink the cheap shit.  “Fifteen year.  Single malt.”

“It’s kind of awful.”

“Hence the Pinot for you.” Oliver dropped another quick kiss on her ruby lips on his way to grab the cream and butter.  As he did, he noticed Felicity’s feet dangling from her perch on the countertop.  They were in constant motion, her toes making circles in the air, those gorgeous silver shoes catching the light.

Oliver gestured to her feet with a spatula, repeating her question to him, “Nervous?”

“Hmmm?” Felicity glanced down at her feet and this time it was her turn to blush.  “Oh.”  She hurriedly crossed her ankles.  “No, it’s just…ever since I got full mobility back, sometimes, I just like to move my feet, because, you know, I can.”

That hit Oliver like a tidal wave and he almost stumbled.  He was slammed with a burst of love so strong, he could barely stand from the weight of it.  He couldn’t speak because the only words he had were ones of love.  The only way to keep them inside was to say nothing at all.

Oliver tossed his ingredients aside and came over to reverently run his hands over Felicity’s legs, drawn to them like a magnet.  Starting at the ankles wrapped in silver, his palms moved over her calves and knees to cup her thighs just below that flowy red dress. 

“This okay?” he asked when he was able to find his voice.  “Does it feel…?”  Oliver’s voice cracked.  Just as he found the words, he lost them again. 

“It feels great.”  Felicity’s tone was just as filled with emotion, so thick it was impossible to pull apart the component feelings.  “No more pain.  Not anymore.”

The idea that there _had_ been pain and he hadn’t been there…Oliver's breath hissed as his hands settled below her knee, his thumbs drawing circles on her flesh.  “I wish…I wish I had been there…for you when…”

"Me too,” Felicity agreed quickly, then seemed to shake herself.  “Though, obviously I wouldn’t _let_ you be there, so…totally my call.  So, I suppose it sounds hypocritical when—”

“Shhh,” Oliver hushed, crouching down in front of her, pressing a reverent kiss to one knee and then the other. 

" _Oliver_.”

The passion in her voice drew Oliver’s eyes upward and when his head tipped up, Felicity immediately grabbed his tie, pulling him up almost violently.  And her eyes…her eyes were on _fire_. 

He stumbled to his feet only to find himself yanked into a kiss much more intense than any that had come before.  Well, at least not in a long, long time.  Felicity was frantic.  Her lips were already parted and Oliver followed her lead, angling his head and sliding his tongue in to tangle with hers.  She moaned and sucked, her frantic hands working his tie free only to use it as a tether, pulling him closer.

Oliver kept his grip on her thighs, reveling in the give and take of the muscles under his palms as they parted of their own free will before trapping him between them, her calves twining around his back to yank him closer.

The last time they had been like this, the muscles under his hands had been limp, unmoving, and, even worse, unfeeling.  Oliver had had to manipulate Felicity’s lower body like a doll…

He kissed her harder.

Then the timer went off. 

The fucking ravioli.  It wasn’t an explosion, but still…God _damn_ it.

Oliver had to wrench his mouth away, because Felicity wasn’t letting go.  She had a death grip on his tie and the way she was sucking on his tongue…he was only able to pull back enough to whisper against her lips, “Ravioli’s ready.”

Her response was a whimper and a gentle nip to his bottom lip that became a suck and then a whine, “ _Oliver_ …”

It was pretty amazing.  So much better than scotch.  Why was he fighting her?  Oh yeah, this was worth waiting for.

Oliver chuckled and tried again, “I don’t want them to overcook.  Just a few minutes, honey.”

Felicity gave another low whine, but nodded, panting a little as she yanked on his tie.  “Fine, but I’m taking this.”  She finished pulling off his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, pressing a kiss to his Adam’s apple and making him hiss.  “There.” She patted his chest, showing she was pleased with her handiwork.

Oliver couldn’t resist one last quick, nipping kiss.  He pulled away quickly before he changed his mind, reminding himself how long those damn raviolis took to make.  Too long to have the filling leaking out into the boiling water.  He scooped the pasta out fast and started the sauce.

He was eager… _so_ eager for dinner to be over.

“Cream sauce?” Felicity asked, in a voice so sultry that his already throbbing cock jumped.

“Rosé,” Oliver managed, just barely.  “Did you want cream?”  He hadn’t added the tomatoes yet, he could probably still do cream sauce if that was what she preferred, just a few adjustments—

“Rosé is perfect.”  Her eyes were heavy lidded and her smile… _Christ_ , he was going to burn something.  It was a good thing Oliver had experience cooking with a raging hard-on.  Such was life with Felicity Smoak.

It only took a few minutes for Oliver to finish and plate the pasta, but it felt like…far, _far_ longer.

“Can you hold the door?” Oliver grabbed the plates and cast her a glance.  He wanted to lift Felicity off the counter, but he was pretty sure that if he touched her he was done for.

In the dining room, they ate with their chairs pressed up against each other’s this time, their ankles twinned like a pair of high school sweethearts on a date to the local soda shop.  The tension in the air was so thick Oliver could taste it.  But it was a good kind of tension.  The best.

“This is delicious,” Felicity murmured, the first words either of them had spoken since they’d sat down.

“Thank you,” Oliver murmured, but funny enough, he couldn’t taste a thing.  He shot her a look that he hoped was full of all the heat he felt.  He wanted Felicity to know what she did to him.  And the way she squirmed in the seat, rubbing her thighs together, told him she did.

Oliver finished appallingly quickly, his hands almost shaking with the need to touch her bare skin.  When he turned to her, Felicity was smiling, her eyes following his movements as she ate.  He set down his fork and tossed his napkin aside.

Then, lifting one of her legs into his lap, Oliver carefully ran his fingers over the straps of her shoes before finding the buckle.  He was so very done with food.

“I haven’t finished my dinner,” Felicity whispered, low and husky.  Oliver couldn’t see that she seemed care much more than he did, though.

“So finish.”  Lifting off one beautiful shoe, he carefully set it aside and ran his fingers over Felicity’s foot, massaging the instep, running the pad of his thumb over her brightly colored, wiggling toes.

Felicity’s eyes flashed in the candle light.  “Are you developing a foot fetish, Mr. Queen?”

Looking at her from under his lashes, Oliver smiled.  “I may very well be developing a Felicity’s Legs Fetish, Ms. Smoak.  That okay with you?”

Bringing the fork to her mouth, Felicity’s tongue peaked out to delicately slip the pasta off the fork in a way that _had_ to be designed to drive Oliver mad.  Even the way she chewed was sexy as hell.

“I think I can live with it.”  Then Felicity lifted her other foot and placed it in his lap as well, wiggling it until Oliver took the hint and started to undo those straps as well.

Running his fingers over her ankles, Oliver couldn’t help but remember the last time they were together like this.  His instinct was to keep _that_ bleak thought to himself, to push it back rather than risk ruining the mood, but that wasn’t what Felicity had asked for from him.  And it wasn’t in the spirit of rebuilding.  And she’d _also_ said not everything he said had to be something she wanted to hear, that all it needed to be was honest.

Taking a deep breath, Oliver whispered, his eyes glued to his hands as they ran over her lower legs, “The last time we were like this…” His voice gave out halfway.  What good was being open if the words wouldn’t come?

“The lower half of my body was a limp noodle?” Felicity supplied, always so helpful. 

Oliver supposed they must be like an old married couple already, the way they could finish each other’s sentences.  Though, Felicity certainly used more…colorful phraseology than he would have.  But it was comforting to know that when words failed him, he had her.

Chuckling despite himself, Oliver nodded, “I wouldn’t put it that way, but…I think about it sometimes.  Hell, I think about it _all the time_.  I had such plans…” He ran his hands up her legs from ankle to thigh, making her shiver. “For when sensation came back.  I wanted to map out every inch of your skin.  Make you feel incredible.”

Lifting her right leg, Oliver leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of her knee.  But then he realized how this might be sounding and hastily looked up to meet Felicity’s eyes.  “Not that I didn’t love making love with you regardless…I mean, it was still _wonderful_ …”

“I know,” Felicity murmured, her eyes sad, but full of the love that he craved, that he _needed_.  “But it wasn’t the same.”

 _This_ was what Oliver hated most about this stupid open and honest thing.  He didn’t want to ever see sadness like this in Felicity’s eyes.  He never wanted to remind her of the bad times.  He only wanted…but, maybe, it was unfair of him to ask her to be happy all the time.  He hadn’t meant too, but…had he unintentionally given the impression that that was what he needed from her?  To always be cheerful?  To be his light?

“Regardless, Felicity…you need to know that I would rather be with you without your legs, than with anyone else _ever_.  It’s just…” Oliver shook his head, gritting his teeth with frustration.  “This isn’t coming out right.  I can’t find the right words.”

Felicity leaned forward and cupped his cheek.  “You’re doing _fine_.  It’s honest, so it’s coming out perfectly.  And I…I felt the almost identical way...  Well, not the identical _identical_.  I mean, I loved being with you, loved the connection.  But I _very much_ missed our sex lives from before.  It certainly wasn’t same.”

The emotions that coursed through him then were almost too much and Oliver found he couldn’t continue to hold Felicity’s gaze.  He raised her foot to his lips and ran his mouth down over her arch, over her ankle and up her calf, teasing her with his stubble, making her shiver.

“Definitely, not the same,” Felicity breathed.  She adjusted her other foot in his lap, finding and running it over the hard ridge of his cock. 

Oliver’s breath hissed and he warned, “You’re playing with fire.”

Felicity’s lazy grin was worth…everything.  “I like fire.”

She still had half a plate of ravioli in front of her, but…Oliver pulled Felicity’s legs apart and fell to his knees in front of her, rubbing his face and lips over her inner thighs.

“ _Oliver_ …” Felicity panted as her hands carded into his short hair.

Laving her thighs, Oliver breathed her in her sweet, familiar scent, savoring the smooth, warm skin against him tongue.  He pushed up the soft, flowy skirt until he reached a pair of soaked through red satin panties.  And dear _God_ , it was sight.  Felicity’s thighs parted further in invitation or…encouragement or…he pressed a kiss right in the center, over the red satin.

“God, that feels soooo good,” Felicity moaned.  And though she’d said that to Oliver a thousand times before, it meant so much more in that moment.  “I lied, you know…well, I _pretended_.  I pretended that I could feel more than I could.”

Oliver’s eyes jerked to hers, his heart clenching.  He’d never considered…  “You mean, you couldn’t—”

“No.  I mean, I _could_ have an orgasm.  I did.  It just…it just wasn’t nearly the same.”  Felicity sent him a guilty look.  “I…do you understand?”

Oliver nodded, relaxing, because he had known that.  And, maybe, because he had pretended a little to.  Pretended to believe her.  He had tried so hard to make it good for her, but had known it would never be the way it was before.  That the spectacular sex they had enjoyed that summer, and after, was a thing of the past.  It was a thing he wanted to mourn but never felt he had the right to.

But then Curtis’ little miracle came and gave them hope.  More than hope, it made everything possible again.  Of _course_ , walking was so much more important than their sex lives, but… Oliver’s hand reached around and he rested his fingers on the base of her spine, were the miracle device rested, feeling the absurd need to keep it safe.

He also had the less absurd need to remind Felicity how good it _could_ be.  Oliver traced the contours of the panties with his tongue, earning a moan for his efforts.  He’d almost forgotten how sensitive she was.

“Did you buy these for me?” Oliver asked, allowing his voice to vibrate against her as he did.

Felicity, somehow, managed to chuckle and shiver at the same time.  “They match the dress.”

“Which you bought for me,” Oliver reminded her.

“True.”

She seemed to enjoy the vibrations of his chuckle against her even more, if Oliver judged by the way her hips bucked and her thighs trembled…God, how he had missed that subtle feeling, that tiny flutter of muscles under his cheek.  He ran his tongue over the full length of the satin, putting enough pressure on her to intensify the flutter, that tremble, that fucking miracle.

Felicity moved to put her thighs on his shoulders, but paused, letting out a grunt of frustration that frankly worried Oliver for a moment, but then her toes found their way under his jacket. 

“This needs to come _off_ ,” Felicity demanded in a throaty whisper.

Oliver grinned up at her and licked his lips, because, Christ, even through that thin barrier he loved the way she tasted.  He sat back to shrug off his jacket and enjoyed the way her feet ran over his chest and shoulders as Felicity helped push it off.  It looked like he wasn’t the only one who had a new turn-on.  She seemed to have developed a thing for using her feet in new and creative ways.

Throwing his jacket aside (his dry cleaner be damned), Oliver unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves quickly and deftly.  His mouth was already back on Felicity’s core, drawn like a moth to the flame, his lips finding her clit through the satin and sucking.

“Oooooo,” Felicity cried, her thighs quickly settling onto his shoulders and pressing against his ears.  Oliver had to turn his head and press a kiss to her thigh, because he had even missed _this_. 

But, then, he felt Felicity’s heal trace a pattern on his back and that was new.  And good, _so_ good.

Once his sleeves were rolled up, Oliver pushed her panties aside and slid two fingers deep inside her, instinctively finding the place Felicity used to love.  As anticipated she keened, crying out, filling him with pride.  And love.  Overwhelming love. 

“Oh God.  That feels so good!  I forgot…I forgot…”

“Better,” Oliver corrected.  “Feels better.”

And she nodded sloppily.  “Yesss.  _So_ much better.”  Felicity’s head was thrown back, her hair falling in golden curls over her shoulders and the arms of the chair she was slouched down in.  Her eyes were almost closed and in the candle light…it was the most beautiful thing Oliver had ever seen.

Instead of telling her, Oliver went about showing her.  He ran his tongue over her clit again.  And again.  His fingers explored her channel as he enjoyed every moan, every wordless cry.  He savored every spasm of her thighs against his shoulders and the way her feet drummed and moved in a restless rhythm against his back. 

He loved her.  God, he loved her.  But he couldn’t tell her.  Not yet.  So Oliver traced the words over her clit, setting off another stream of moans and cries.

Oliver used all of his skill and all of his extensive knowledge of Felicity’s body to bring her to a slow perfect orgasm.  In this, he refused to aim for anything less than perfection.

“Oh _Oliver_ ,” Felicity breathed as her legs slipped from his shoulders and a lazy smile spread across her gorgeous face.

Not telling Felicity he loved her in that moment was one of the greatest feats of self-control Oliver had ever preformed. 

“I missed you,” he said instead.

“Mmm too,” Felicity hummed.  “Also, I think you broke my brain.”

Oliver chuckled through another burst of pride as he stood, adjusting himself as subtly as he could.  “Your brain is far too strong to be broken so easily.” He held out his hands and she placed her palms in his, without even pausing to think.  And he was so grateful for that.  It felt like the world had righted itself.  “Your place or mine.  I can make dessert there—”

“Oh _no_ ,” Felicity crooned after he had pulled her to her feet.  A slow cat-like grin stretched across her face. 

“You want to have dessert here?”  Oliver couldn’t say he wasn’t disappointed, but he could wait a little longer.  He could—

Felicity shook her head slowly, giving his chest a not-so-gentle shove and pushing him back into his chair.  Oliver fell easily, taken off guard.  What was going on here?  Though, the look in her eye…he would follow Felicity anywhere.

“We are _not_ waiting for the drive back to one of our apartments.”  Felicity’s hips did this little wiggle and her panties dropped to the floor.

And _that_ just about broke _Oliver’s_ brain.  And his wasn’t nearly as resilient as Felicity’s.  “But…bed…”  Yup, broken. But the thing was…tonight was supposed to be special.  Taking their time.  Satin sheets…

“Beds are boring,” Felicity insisted and Oliver raised his eyebrows.  That wasn’t a sentiment she’d ever expressed before.  Her agile fingers fell to his shirt buttons.  “I’ve had enough of the missionary position to last a life time.”

Ahhh.  This was about all the positions they hadn’t been able to manage…this winter.  Well, that was a challenge Oliver could get behind.  He grinned up at Felicity as her hands found their way under his shirt, arguing, “But I’ve missed the feel of your thighs around my hips, squeezing and—”

“That part is up for negotiation.”  Then Felicity’s lips slammed onto his. 

It was the kind of teeth clanking, tongue tangling, lip sucking kiss that Oliver hadn’t allowed himself to even contemplate, not in _months_.  It threw him into such a state of desperation…fuck a bed! He needed her _now_!

Felicity finished unbuttoning his shirt and Oliver tried to tare it free, his lips still fused with hers, but she wrenched back, panting, “No, leave it.  The suspenders.  Don’t touch the suspenders.”

Oliver’s breathless laugh was cut off by Felicity’s tongue as it searched for the back of his throat.  His hands closed over her waist to anchor himself as she worked the opening of his pants.

When Felicity took him in soft, talented hands it felt like the first time…and not at _all_ , because no first time was this good, not even theirs.  She moved her hand along his length and Oliver was completely at her mercy.  He’d follow her to the ends of the Earth.  But, maybe, that was true regardless.

Her lips left his and Felicity smiled down at him and she didn’t say it either, but Oliver could read the love in her eyes.  He prayed she could see the same in his.  Their gazes held as she climbed onto his lap and guided his cock to her core.  Slowly, she sank onto him and Oliver didn’t know which one of them was more grateful for the miracle that allowed them to do this.

Oliver’s breath caught when he was _finally_ fully seated within her…he couldn’t even…he had actually resolved himself to never have this again and… _Christ_ , it was unthinkable. 

“Felicity.  God, Felicity.”  Oliver just loved her so much.  “I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too…so so… _Oliver_ …”

She started moving over him and her eyes rolled back, her hair falling over her back and shoulders…it was exquisite.  Felicity in that red dress, over him, around him…Oliver’s hands fell to her ass and thigh, just savoring the movement under his hands, not moving or guiding her, letting her have full control. 

“Not going to last long,” Oliver warned, struggling to keep his own eyes open.  He didn’t want to miss a second. 

“You don’t have to.”

But he wanted to.  He wanted it to be incredible for her.  He wanted…

What started off slow and sensual got hard and desperate.  Fast.   He stopped being able to think.  Oliver pushed her hair from her face and yanked her lips back to his.  The only way he was going to be able to keep from screaming his love for her was to bury his tongue inside her.

The kiss quickly turned sloppy, but, somehow, they maintained contact.  Oliver found himself quite motivated to do so.  They swallowed each other’s cries of completion, one after the other.  He couldn’t even tell which came first, but when Felicity’s lips finally fell, lax, from his, it was to bury them against his neck as she curled herself around him in post-coital bliss.

And Oliver…he just wanted to stay there forever.  Which was why he wasn’t even sure why he said, “So, I’ll ask again, your place or mine?”

Felicity lifted her head to look him in the eyes, a small smile on her face as she traced the outlines of his beard.  “Oh honey… _Mr. Mayor_.  It’s a Monday night.  You can’t be seen doing the walk of shame tomorrow morning.  How would it look?”

He didn’t give a damn…but…Oliver’s face fell.  He hadn’t even thought of that.  Why hadn’t he thought of that?  His forehead fell to her shoulder and he groaned.  Because worse than him being caught doing the walk of shame, was the paparazzi catching _Felicity_ leaving his place at dawn on a Tuesday.  Fuck fuck _fuck_.

Chuckling, Felicity ran her nails along his scalp.  “It’s alright, hon.  The night’s not over.”

That got Oliver’s attention, but then Felicity started to lift off of him and he reflexively fought her, muttering, “No.”

But Felicity pulled out of his arms anyway, her smile sympathetic.  “Why don’t you go get whatever spectacular dessert you have planned?  I’m not planning on going home anytime soon.”

Oliver sighed, but stood, murmuring, “I can do that,” against her lips as he buttoned up his pants.

He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or still blissed out from the last half hour, but he must have been feeling pretty good, because he was whistling to himself as he got the ice cream.  Maybe he was too happy to be disappointed in _anything_.

Ten minutes later, Oliver almost dropped the Baked Alaska when he emerged from the kitchen to find Felicity draped across Antione’s pristine white table cloth, wearing nothing but the remnants of her red, red lipstick.

When, years from then, Oliver thought back on that night, that magical third date, he remembered red satin and the taste of scotch and more emotions than he could hope to categorize, but disappointment…that was that _last_ thing he thought of.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  I know that there will be some people who don’t think that Oliver did enough to win Felicity back or to prove that he has changed.  But I’m going to maintain that in a healthy relationship, no one is asked to “prove” anything.  And if two people agree to start over, it is just that, a clean start, no grudges held.
> 
> “Doing things right this time,” is about building from the ground up, slowly and with care, while all the while living very real, imperfect lives, being a normal couple doing normal couple things. No grand gestures or five month vacations from reality.
> 
> And on the note, the next chapter will feature Oliver and Felicity’s first fight of their new relationship.   That being said: **Chapter 3: Date 12: Australian Shiraz** is definitely the fluffiest (;-)) chapter so far and it should be up on Thursday, September 15.
> 
> I am 100% done with this story through chapter 4.  I’m procrastinating the final edit on chapter 5, since it’s almost 30 pages and has a very complicated scene to block.  Just the idea of editing it makes my head pound.  In the meantime, chapters 11 and 12 of AKOI were scribble drafted in my notebook last weekend and I hope to start typing up chapter 11 first thing in the morning, so my promised return of _Another Kind of Island_ in October actually looks like it’s going to happen. 
> 
> Thank you to all the wonderful readers who stopped and gave me love the last chapter, it means to world to me!  (Keep it coming, me and my muse are greedy like buggers.  ;-))
> 
> Thank you to **Rayna** for the lovely cover art.  Thank you to **ireland1733** for the awesome chapter art, Italian and all, and for all her support.  And finally to **Fairytalehearts** for all her hard work.
> 
> I’m over at Tumblr if you want to say ‘hi,’ though most of what I post there is shameless self-promotion for my writing.  Oh and speaking of shameless, if you liked this head over to my author page and try out one of my other stories.  :-D
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Emmy
> 
> http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/


	3. Date 12: Australian Shiraz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated “M” (barely). Warnings for excessive fluff, good wine used to buy forgiveness, and blatant disregard for doctors’ orders. Also, fluff.
> 
> This is date #12. Any conversation you wish they had had by this point, let's just say they happened in dates 4-11. ;-)

**_June 24, 2016_ **

 

It was inevitable really.  Felicity had expected it.  And, in the long run, what was a short period of loss of consciousness in the battle to keep Star City’s streets clean.  Team Arrow was down to two (well, an occasional three with Curtis, but still, shorthanded) and that meant she had to be in field more often.

Felicity enjoyed it, really.  It was kinda fun to be out there and not because she’d been kidnapped or cornered…well, she sort of had been cornered, hence the teeny tiny absolutely minuscule concussion.  Her head didn’t even hurt.  She was _fine_.

Oliver…well, he was a little _less_ fine.  Not that he was hurt.  He wasn’t.  Not a scratch on him.  But he was a _little_ freaked out.   If they’d had a way to contact Digg, Felicity was afraid the poor man would have gotten an irrational rant about abandoning the team and necessitating Felicity being in the line of fire. 

But it _was_ irrational and Felicity felt confident that Oliver had realized that by now.  Hopefully.  He _had_ insisted that she stay home and “take it easy” after being discharged from the ER at 4am and, while she felt perfectly fine, the look on his face told her that it was best to indulge him. 

It was the first time she had been in the line of fire since they’d gotten back together, since Darhk was killed actually.  If she thought about it, it was the first time one of them had been seriously injured since Laurel…

And while Felicity hadn’t been _seriously_ injured, she could only imagine what it must have been like for Oliver to find her unconscious on the cold concrete.

So Felicity sat in her (hopefully, soon, _their_ ) living room in the Loft, blatantly ignoring all the doctors’ orders stating no electronics and…well, pretty much _all_ the doctors’ orders.  Because she was actually, truly _fine_.

Thankfully, Oliver had supplied the entertainment for the day.  Which was ever so kind of him, even if it was unintentional.  As Felicity was _certain_ it was.

She rewound the news clip for the fifth time that day and settled back onto the couch, a bowl of popcorn at her hip.  Felicity wondered how many times she could watch it before it got old.  She might just have to find out.

The press had cornered Oliver outside of City Hall.  They’d all gotten wind of Felicity’s “attack” as they called it (it was actually Felicity getting caught smack dab in the middle of a vigilante run drug-bust.  The vigilante in this scenario being her), and not knowing the details, the press speculated wildly as was their want.  

But whatever the _press_ (and Felicity used that word loosely in these people’s case) fantasized happened, they were much more interested in using this opportunity to corner their new Interim Mayor and demand details about his _scandalous_ love life (it really hadn’t been anything resembling scandalous in years). 

Add the fact that someone had gotten photos of Oliver driving Felicity home after her discharge from the ER and…voila, Paparazzi field day.

Most of the questions that were shouted at Oliver as he left City Hall were insulting, some downright nauseating, but Felicity tried not to listen to them as she watched Oliver expertly move through the group that very closely resembled a pack of wild dogs. 

At first, he was doing an excellent job of ignoring them.  Oliver had one hand up in a clear sign of “not now” and his eyes were focused very determinedly _away_.

But then someone yelled something that sounded like a derogatory comment about Felicity being his one-time secretary (they were really scraping the bottom of the barrel if they were going with that one) and the word _gold-digger_ was even thrown out, which was _absurd_ given the state of Oliver’s bank account.  But absurd or not, that was what finally broke him.

The reporter got what he wanted, because Oliver stopped, fixed the man with a stare that _should_ have had him shaking in his inexpensive boots, and turned to the crowd.

When Oliver put his hand up this time, everyone quieted, and that mastery of the crowd gave Felicity a little thrill deep in her chest.  And, maybe, deep in her pelvis too. 

“I’m going to address this now and then I’m _done_ ,” Oliver announced in his hard-edged _Mayor Voice_.  Felicity loved that voice.  It was starting to rival the _Green Arrow Voice_.  She drew her knees to her chest and hugged them in anticipation.

“Yes, Felicity Smoak was my Executive Assistant for the year that I served as CEO for Queen Consolidated.  Before that she was my friend.”  Oliver stopped to fix his steely glare on the man who dared snigger at that. 

“ _My friend_ ,” Oliver repeated in a growl. “She agreed to take what she considered a demotion and for a woman with two masters from MIT _was_ , in order to be my _Executive Assistant_ because she was the _only_ person I trusted to help me run the company.  Any and all other speculation as to why we worked together, or what our relationship was at that time ranges from the asinine to the frankly insane and I will not even consider addressing it further.”

Oliver paused for a breath and the reporters seemed to take that as a cue to start yelling more questions out.  But his eyes flashed and they quieted.  Felicity hummed to herself, wiggling her toes.  It got better.  So much better.

“You all know that Ms. Smoak and I were engaged last December.  Some of you were even there.  You also _know_ that that engagement ended in early spring.  The only thing I will say on the subject is that, while I take full responsibility for the break-up, I did not, would not, and will _never_ cheat on Felicity.”

While Felicity knew this, the vehemence that Oliver said it was…something three steps _beyond_ gratifying.  The way he looked shocked and appalled by the very idea.  The way the crowd was silent.  As if they were terrified to contradict him, even though they had multiple instances of his past infidelities to throw in his face.  It was all quite wonderful.

Then Oliver announced, “I am lucky enough to have Felicity back in my life.  We are taking it slow and, like this city, trying to rebuild.  But, also like this city, the foundation is strong and my faith in the outcome equally so.  Thank you.  That’s all I have to say.”

Oliver gave a _damn_ good speech and the first time she had seen it, Felicity had clapped.  But not this time.  Because it wasn’t over.  Oh no. 

God, she loved this man.

He took approximately two steps before he stopped again, announcing.  “You know what?  I have one more thing to say.  It’s about _Palmer Technology_.”  Felicity wondered if the sneer in Oliver’s voice was obvious to everyone or just to her.  “When Ray Palmer took over my company, I was skeptical, but Ray was a good man with a strong vision.  The best thing he ever did, however, was to turn that company… _my family’s_ company over to Felicity Smoak.

“She ran the company in a way that I know my parents, and my grandparents, would be proud of.  But the _people_ ,” and if Felicity thought he said Palmer Tech with a sneer, this was said with blatant disgust, “in charge now…

“Felicity Smoak was fired because she wanted to make the technology that is enabling her to walk available to anyone it may help.  But because that might _potentially_ cut into profits, she was forced out.  For the first time, I’m glad my parents aren’t around to see the company they put their life’s blood into fall so far.  Thank you for your time.”

And even though she had watched it five times, enough for her to have his words memorized, Felicity clapped as he walked off camera, it made her so happy.  So proud.  Oliver was…Oliver was _amazing_.

Felicity threw herself down on the couch and stared at the ceiling, feeling not a little like a love-sick teenager.  Maybe the concussion did have some after affects…like giddiness. 

No, this was just them.  Finding themselves in each other.  Again.

She glanced at the clock.  It had been almost two hours since that spot was filmed.  Felicity would have thought Oliver would be home by now…well, _her_ home.  Hopefully, soon to be _their_ home.  Again.  Though, he probably stopped at _his_ home…the temporary one, to get changed and, with any luck, pick-up a change of clothes, because it was the weekend and sleepovers were permitted on the weekend.

Things were going…really _really_ well this time around.  Better than anticipated actually.  Of course, Felicity had anticipated a whole lot of pain to accompany the healing, and maybe there was, but…them…Oliver and Felicity…they felt good.  Strong.

And it didn’t hurt at all when Oliver did things like _this_.  Things like standing in front of the city and defending her honor.  Sigh.  Her knight in shining leather.

In wasn’t that the first time they had gotten together it hadn’t been good.  It had been so much _more_ than good.  It had been like a dream.  In many ways, too good to be true.  A part of Felicity had always been waiting for the other shoe to drop.  That part of her really hadn’t been surprised when it had. 

Oh, there had been times when everything was normal, when it had just felt like two people, so right for each other, sharing a life.  But it felt like that so much more often now, even though they weren’t sharing a home yet. 

Because they weren’t in Bali or Ivytown or any other idyllic spot.  They were _home_.  Where criminals caught them unawares and knocked them unconscious.  Where there were disrespectful paparazzi and asshole board members.  And still…imperfect had never felt so right.

The doorbell rang and Felicity smiled to herself, shaking her head.  Oliver always rang the doorbell now, as if he didn’t still have a key, as if she would have _ever_ changed the locks.  Why would she?  The Loft had been his home first, a home she really hadn’t been comfortable displacing him from, and wouldn’t have if he hadn’t insisted.

But Oliver _also_ insisted that until he gave up his little month-to-month rental a block from City Hall, he was going to continue to knock.  Ever so polite and respectful.  If only Robert and Moira Queen could see their boy today.

Despite the aches and pains that remained from last night’s little adventure, Felicity practically bounced to the door and opened it with a wide smile. 

But instead of the answering grin Felicity had expected, Oliver looked…nervous.  Almost…guilty? Hmm…

Felicity tipped her head to side and looked him over.  “Oliver?” 

She waited for his usual kiss as he stepped inside the door.

And waited.

Oliver just sort of stood there.  Frozen.  After a minute, he seemed to realize that he was supposed to do something and he leaned forward to press a kiss on the corner of Felicity’s lips.  But he still didn’t come in.  He just kept standing there.  

“I brought you something,” Oliver finally told her.  He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.  They were shifty, nervous.  It was a good thing he wore that hood.  His eyes gave him away.  Felicity just wished she knew what they were giving away this particular time. 

Oliver held up his offerings and Felicity looked them over.  “Red wine and mint chocolate chip ice cream.”  A half-gallon, not a pint.  Uh huh.  Interesting.

“Australian Shiraz,” Oliver clarified gesturing to the wine, as if that explained everything.  As if the type of wine would explain exactly what he was up to.  “The sommelier at the wine store assured me that the raspberry notes would work well with the mint ice cream—”

“Oliver, is this about the press conference—?”  It was the only explanation Felicity could come up with. 

His eyes widened.  “You saw that—”

“—because I’m not mad about…”  Felicity trailed off, looking Oliver over again.  If this wasn’t about the press… 

Shifty eyes.  Nervous feet.  Wine.  Ice cream. 

“What did you _do_?”

“What?  Nothing.”

Yeah, _right_.  He’d never been less convincing.  “Oliver, why are you still in the hallway?”

Oliver took a deep breath and seemed to steal himself.  Felicity wasn’t sure if she should be scared or amused.  “Okay, so…” he swallowed, “this…these aren’t your _real_ gift.  This is what I got you once I realized I might have… _overstepped_ with the…other present.” 

Then Oliver wrinkled his nose and bit his lip, waiting for her reaction.  And Felicity had, honestly, never seen him act like this before.  Oh God, _what_ did he _do_? 

“Why did you get me a gift at all?” Felicity almost demanded, though that was not at all to the point.  Maybe part of her was wondering if she even wanted to _know_ what kind of gift required _apology_ gifts. 

Oliver shrugged in a very little boy way.  “Don’t boyfriends get their girlfriends presents?  As part of the…courtship process?”

“I guess…”  Flowers.  Candy, maybe.  But even then there was usually an occasion.  Or something to apologize for or… “You know what… _no_.  This is 2016 not 1816, and as nice as it would be, most guys don’t just get girls gifts without a good reason.”

“Felicity, you were unconscious twelve hours ago,” Oliver argued as if that explained everything.

Actually, it was more like 17 hours, but whatever.  “So, you got me an I’m-sorry-you-got-knocked-out-by-a-bad-guy gift?”

Oliver pressed his lips together, looking very much like he just ate some of Felicity’s cooking.  “In a sense.”

Now, Felicity was starting to freak out.  What could he have possibly gotten her that would have him acting _this_ weird?  And if it was overstepping so much, why didn’t he just bring it back?

And, please, _don’t_ let it be another ring.  Maybe Oliver thought that she didn’t want _that_ ring, but that, maybe, she’d want a _new_ ring, but…they were _so_ not back to the ring stage.  If they were still at the knocking stage, how could Oliver possibly think that they were back at the _ring_ stage?

“Just tell me,” Felicity finally told him, bracing herself.  Because if she speculated for ten more seconds her imagination was going to drive her insane.

Oliver winced, looked at her and then at his feet.  Felicity’s eyes followed his.  Under his boot (he _had_ gone home to change into casual clothing) was a leather strap and at the end of that leather strap…oh dear _God_ , that was _leash_!

“A _dog_!!  You bought me a _dog_!”

Because sitting there, as calm and as sweet as can be, was a 30lb ball of fluff.  His ears were pointed and alert.  His belly bright white and his back a golden fawn color.  One color just seemed to merge into the other.  The dog’s tongue lolled to the side as he stared at Felicity with what looked like a smile, so proud of himself for just sitting there, so well-behaved.

Then, as if on cue, the dog’s head tilted to the side and he let out a small yelping noise.  Not a bark.  Not a whine.  Nothing so undignified.  It was almost a hello.

And Felicity melted.

But…

No!!  No, she would _not_ melt. 

This _was_ overstepping.  This was _so_ overstepping.  One did _not_ just buy their girlfriend of three weeks a _dog_.  Even if they did spend every day together, and used to be engaged, and were partners for five years…actually, even if they had _never_ broken up and had been together for the entire year, buying a dog and bringing it home without discussing it first… _overstepping_.

“A _dog_ , Oliver!” Felicity was very aware that her voice had taken on a hysterical edge the moment she set eyes on her _gift_.    Now, it rose to a screech.

Oliver wrinkled his nose and he muttered, “A guard dog, actually.”

“ _This_ is a guard dog!”  Felicity looked over at the adorable ball of fluff and, oh dear God, he had a curly-cue tail…she was just going to _die_ he was that cute.

“Well, he will be,” Oliver defended.  “He’s just a baby.”  Felicity shot him an incredulous look, but Oliver just kept digging himself deeper.  “He’s going to triple in size.”

“You got me a dog that’s going to _triple_ in size!”  Felicity’s voice went up at least two octaves with that one.

“Or quadruple,” Oliver muttered under his breath, probably thinking she didn’t hear, but she did.  Oh, she _did_.  “Maybe we should just come inside.”  Oliver didn’t wait for an answer, just pressed a hasty kiss to Felicity’s temple and walked around her, saying, “I’ll get the ice cream in the freezer.  Come, dog.”

“Dog?  His name is ‘ _dog’_?”

Because even with everything else, she was perhaps most disturbed by this beautiful puppy not having an actual name.  This puppy who trotted inside the Loft behind Oliver without anyone holding his leash.  Felicity was utterly charmed and that was _not_ okay.

“Frank doesn’t believe in naming puppies,” Oliver called out from the kitchen.  “He said that was the job of their forever owners.”

‘ _Forever owner’_? Did Oliver Queen just use the phrase ‘forever owner’?  And, what was more, Felicity was pretty sure he was referring to _them_.

But damn that puppy was adorable.  As soon as Oliver’s back was turned, Felicity grabbed the leash and turned to the puppy with a smile.  She crooked a figure at him, whispering, “Hey, baby.”

The lovely creature happily turned and followed her to the other side of the couch where Oliver couldn’t see them.  Felicity sat on the floor and opened her arms.  The puppy scampered up onto her lap, showering her with wet kisses.  “Let’s get this off you,” she whispered, unhooking his leash and rubbing his fluffy, wiggly body.  Had anything ever been _this_ soft?

“You can name him anything you want,” came Oliver’s wheedling voice from the kitchen.

“ _If_ we keep him,” Felicity yelled back, annoyed at the assumption.  Though, she quickly turned and whispered into the dog’s ear, “Don’t worry, sweetie.  We’re keeping you.”  And, even though she felt guilty lying to Oliver after she made such a big deal about telling the truth…lord, if she let him get away with _this_ , what was next?  

“Dogs are a _big_ deal, Oliver,” she called over the coach.  “A monumental, life-changing event.  Not something you bring over like a box of chocolates.”  Scratching behind the puppy’s ear, Felicity tried not to melt _too much_ into the dark brown eyes of…he really needed a name.   “What were you _thinking_?”

Felicity could hear the clinking of wine glasses.  No _doubt,_ Oliver thought that the wine would put her in a better mood.  Then, with a sigh, he said, “I was _thinking_ that you aren’t safe here all by yourself.”

Great, now he was upping the ante by being over-protective, which always brought up conflicting feelings of sympathy and irritation.  It was so sweet and, yet, _so_ annoying.

“Oliver…”  This time it was Felicity who sighed.  Deciding to be a grown-up and stop torturing the man, she climbed up onto the coach so that she could actually look at him and said in a more sympathetic tone, “We really should have discussed this first.”

“I _know_.” 

Oliver frowned as he forced the cork-screw into the bottle.  Felicity wondered if he remembered she had a concussion.  The smallest, probably almost non-existent concussion.  She was certain he didn’t remember or he never would be letting her have wine.  Win for her. 

“I just…Frank, the canine guy at SCPD, mentioned months ago that a guard dog would be a good idea if you didn’t want or couldn’t have a body guard all the time.  With everything that was going on, I just forgot about it until today.”

A soft whine from little… ‘Arrow’ was too obvious, wasn’t it?  Too bad.  It was a good name for a dog.  Better than for a person, actually.  Arrow-Pup…?  No, that was lame.  Well, What’s-His-Name clearly wasn’t happy on the floor when she was on the sofa, so Felicity patted the couch and caught him as he jumped up next to her.

“Then I was talking to him after your attack today—”

“It was a _mission_ , Oliver.  Not an attack.” Felicity shook her head.  He was listening to media rhetoric again.  “I wasn’t mugged.”

“—and Frank said he bred Akitas,” Oliver continued, removing the cork.  Sometimes, Felicity wondered why she even bother to talk.   “And that they were great guard dogs and companions.  Fiercely loyal.”  He poured the wine.

Felicity looked down at little…Fluffernutter?  He certainly looked like a Fluffernutter.  Though, that would hardly put the fear of God into an actual attacker.  And, plus, she was allergic to nuts. 

Tequila? That would be funny and kinda meaningful and his color matched, but it didn’t really roll off the tongue.  ‘Hey, Tequila.’  ‘Come here, Tequila.”  _No_.  Quiver?  Hmmm.

“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t talk to me _first_ ,” Felicity argued.  Never let it be said that she couldn’t multitask.  “We’ve never even _discussed_ getting a dog.  _Ever_.”

Well, there was that one time in Ivytown, but they’d gotten distracted before it went anywhere.  Probably by food.  Or sex.  All they did at Ivytown was eat and have sex.  Good times. 

Maybe Felicity could name the puppy ‘Robin’, for Robin Hood.  But, then, people might think that it was for that vigilante kid from Gotham that hung out with that Batman guy.  Oliver would _hate_ that.

“I was _going_ to discuss it with you.  I was,” Oliver insisted as he gathered the glasses.  “I went over to see the dogs.  Just to take a look.  Ask some questions—”

“And you decided that I needed a fierce protector _today_?  Without discussing it with me first?”  This was starting to sound upsettingly like _old_ Oliver.  And, maybe, ‘Robin’ was an _excellent_ name.

“You’re all by yourself here, Felicity.  Without even Donna.  And the _Bunker_ , you’re in the Bunker alone _all the time_ and it’s insane how often someone breaks in there.  Malcolm _alone_.  A guard dog is a good idea.”

Or maybe she’d name him ‘Flash’.  Oliver would looove that. 

“Remember, the whole my life, my choice thing.”  Though, Felicity had to say, the idea of a grown up little Flash here, attacking Malcolm Merlyn…awfully appealing.  Though, right now, all she could imagine the puppy doing was drooling on his boots.  “Besides, he’s not exactly fierce.”

“He’ll grow—”

“By the time he _grows_ , I was _hoping_ I wouldn’t be living alone anymore,” Felicity confessed.  Maybe, she was starting to soften.  Goddamn, the big protective idiot and his awesome cuddly gifts.  “But, maybe, I should rethink—”

“ _No_ ,” Oliver protested, quickly enough to make her smile.  It wasn’t like Felicity wasn’t teasing anyway.  They both knew where they wanted this to lead.  And it wasn’t living alone for the year it would take for this dog to mature.  “I mean…” Oliver grunted as he made his way over to her with the wine.  “He’s fiercer than he looks and—Felicity, why is he on the couch?”

Crap.  Felicity narrowed her eyes at Oliver and said as sternly as she could manage (which probably wasn’t very, since she had a puppy lying on her chest), “Locksley is _my_ present and I can have him on the couch if I want to.”

“Locksley, huh?”

“Yup,” Felicity said defiantly.  An effect that was completely ruined when Locksley licked her chin and proceeded to gaze adoringly up at Oliver.

Who, then, let out a laugh and accused, “You, little faker!  Pretending you were going to send him back!”

Felicity glowered at Oliver, even as she hugged Locksley to her.  “You brought me the most adorable creature on the planet.  What am I _supposed_ to do?”

Grinning like the fool he was, Oliver wisely stayed quiet (and yes, she was aware that she just contradicted herself) and handed Felicity a glass of his wine of atonement.

She took it, because good wine was good wine.  And there was the added benefit of how upset Oliver was going to be when he remembered Felicity had been diagnosed with a concussion this morning and he not only let her drink, but gave it to her. 

“You still should have talked to me first,” Felicity grumbled.   She was beating that dead horse as long as she could.  She had a limited window to get Oliver to understand she was _not okay_ with his methods, before the positive outcome washed away all the guilt.  “You can’t just keep bringing home strays—”

“He’s _not_ a stray,” Oliver protested, sounding genuinely insulted on Locksley’s behalf.  “He’s a pure-bred Japanese Akita, bred to protect Japanese Royalty and take down bears—”

“That’s not the—Bears, Oliver?”

“It seemed like a useful talent.   All things considered.”

All things considered, it just might be.  Felicity closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.  And a sip of wine.  It was delicious.  Of course, it was delicious.  The man knew his wine.

“Bears aside, what are you going to bring home next?  A child?”

Oliver gave her a look.  One that said he would be rolling his eyes if he wasn’t above it (which he wasn’t b.t.w.).  “That’s ridiculous, Felicity.”

“Is it?” she asked sweetly, the wine already warming her.  “Some adorable blond orphan shows up on the street and bats her baby blues at you…?”  It might sound _ridiculous_ , but Felicity could see just such a scenario. 

“I would bring her directly to Child Services…actually, I would consult _Overwatch_ over the comms and _then_ take her…or him directly to Child Services.”  It was a good answer and Oliver knew it.  He blinked innocently at her, looking oh-so-repentant.  “Okay?”

“I suppose…” A small smile broke free and Felicity wasn’t sure she was going to be able to get rid of it any time soon.  Between the wine and the dog, the promise of ice cream and an Oliver set on turning her to mush…

Then he grinned, dimples and all.  As if she hadn’t already lost.  Locksley was pretty impressed too, if one judged by the way he licked Oliver’s chin.  The affection surprised Oliver, making him scrunch up his face and Felicity laughed.

“Seriously though,” Oliver said, ignoring the puppy and reaching out to take Felicity’s hand.  “I promise no more animals without discussing it with you first.  Not even a fish.”

“Oh, no fish,” Felicity broke in.  Better to get _that_ one settled right there and then.  “I kill fish.”  Accidently, of course. 

Oliver chuckled.  “Okay.  No fish.  But, really, this was a special case.  After last night…” Here came the look that melted her like butter.  “The idea of you sleeping alone…”

Well, Felicity certainly hadn’t _planned_ on sleeping alone tonight.  Or tomorrow night for that matter.  That was why Oliver was _supposed_ to bring an overnight bag.

“Oliver, look at this guy,” Felicity set down the wine and lifted Locksley up over her head, which she did easily, by the way.  Then, as if to prove her point, the puppy cuddled into her and laid his head on her shoulder.  He was so fricken sweet.  “Sure, he’ll keep me company, but I fail to see how he’s going to _protect_ me over the next few months while we’re living apart.”

Though, Felicity was really thinking along the lines of weeks.  Weeks was plenty slow enough, wasn’t it?  
  
Oliver look a long swallow of his wine, almost draining it.  “Okay, if you want me to be _completely_ honest…?”

“ _Please_.”  Felicity should have known there was more to this story. 

“I stopped by Frank’s today with the intention of looking at adult, fully trained guard dogs.  Just for research.  I even planned to bring you there tomorrow if there was anything worthwhile.” Oliver finished the wine with a long swallow.

All right, now _Felicity_ was getting nervous.  She took a gulp of her own wine.  “And…?” she prompted when he didn’t keep going.

“Well, Frank explained that Akita’s weren’t like German Shepards that can be trained to obey anyone’s commands.  Akita’s are very independent, but very loyal to their families.  When raised from puppies they’ll protect them with their lives.”

Felicity looked into Locksley’s deep brown eyes and gave him a kiss on the nose.  He was clearly the perfect dog for them.  “This still doesn’t explain why you didn’t talk to me about it tonight and bring me by tomorrow.  Because even if I was skeptical of the idea, I would have heard you out.  You have to know that.”

“It wasn’t that.  It was…okay…” Oliver went to drink more wine, realized the glass was empty and set it on the table behind them.  Oh dear lord, he was blushing.  “This little guy, he was just following me around and looking at me with those big brown eyes…and now that I’m saying this out loud it sounds a lot like what you accused me of with the orphan…”

Oliver let out a frustrated noise and focused on Locksley, who was in heaven with the way his ear was being scratched.  “He just felt like _our_ dog,” Oliver muttered, guilty and almost sad, “like it was _meant_ to be.”

Felicity had to press her lips together and close her eyes to control herself.  She was on overload.  The cuteness alone. 

“I couldn’t leave him there, Felicity.  I just couldn’t.”  And the two of them looked at her with identical expressions, proving just how on-point she was when she referred to this look as Oliver’s ‘puppy-dog’ look.  She had the evidence right here.

Grabbing the nearest pillow, Felicity smacked Oliver on the shoulder.  “You big marshmallow.”  She didn’t have a follow up for that one, so she just drank the rest of her wine. 

The marshmallow in question was still staring at the dog, who had now rolled over to have his belly rubbed.  Terrifying, was what he was. 

“Would you just look at him, Felicity.  Can you tell me I’m wrong?”

About as terrifying as his master.  And, wow, was this man going to be the biggest push-over as a father or what?  Felicity might as well prepare herself now.

Gathering all the sternness she could muster (which wasn’t a lot, what with feeling all warm and cozy and just the first teeny edge of tipsy), Felicity announced, “Well, you’re going to be seeing him quite a lot.  Because you’re not leaving here until he’s house broken.  You bought him.  You train him.”

Oliver’s eyes widened, but he looked far from displeased.  “What about the no weekday sleepover rule?”

“Well, it’s a good thing it’s Friday.”

“I think it takes longer than two days to train a dog,” Oliver told her skeptically.

“Oliver, I don’t know the first thing about dogs.  A dog this size would have never fit in our apartment in Vegas, never mind one three to four _times_ this size.  No, you are not leaving me alone with him until he’s trained.”  And Felicity refused to admit that there was any secondary gain for her in this what-so-ever.  “The people of Star City are just going to have to deal with your… _improper_ behavior.”

“You mean like that?” Oliver gave another self-deprecating smile and gestured over his shoulder to where the impromptu press conference was still paused on the flat screen.  So, he’d noticed that?  Felicity had forgotten in the excitement of their new family member. 

"That wasn't improper, that was…”   And it was in that moment that Felicity gave up any pretense of being mad at him.  “That was incredible.”

“Really?”  Oliver looking and sounding genuinely shocked.

“I’ll play it for you later.  You need to watch it.  But…there are no words, Oliver.  The way you handled that crowd.  The way you defended me, _us_ …it was perfect.  And the stuff about Palmer Tech…”

Oliver winced as she mentioned it.  Still expecting the worst, the big dummy. Felicity cupped his cheeks and smiled into his eyes.  “I was… _am_ so proud of you.  And I’m sure your parents, wherever they are, are insanely proud as well.”

“I…”  Oliver opened his mouth and shut it again, before croaking out, “Really?”

“Yes, _really_ ,” Felicity laughed, pressing her mouth to his in a kiss he enthusiastically returned.  It couldn’t last long, though, what with Locksley squirming between them.  “You’re very lucky, you know?  If you hadn’t saved my life this morning, and did this,” she waved at the TV, “this afternoon.  I might have been much more put out when you showed up with a _dog_.”

“Don’t forget the ice cream and Australian Shiraz,” Oliver whispered, looking almost overwhelmed.

“How could I forget?  You should get us some more.”  Felicity gave him a playful shove, hoping to give him a minute to collect himself and Oliver chuckled as he got up to retrieve the bottle.

It worked.  By the time Oliver had returned and refilled their glasses, he had a playful smile on his face.  “ _So,_ let me get this straight, the punishment for not calling first, is that I have to spend more time with you?”  Oliver shook his head.  “I don’t know, that’s a bit harsh.  Maybe, I should return the puppy after all.”

Felicity rolled her eyes, giving Oliver another smack with the back of her hand.  “This more Oliver 2.0?”

“Honey, I’m pretty sure we’re on _at least_ 3.0 by now, maybe even 4.0.”

Oliver was able to catch her hands before she was able to hit him again.  He tackled Felicity onto the couch, his hands running up her sides, his intent not sexy-times, unfortunately, but _torture_.   He found her ribs and started tickling them mercilessly.  Then, to add insult to injury, he started running his stubble over her neck, giving her simultaneous shivers of pleasure and discomfort.

Felicity erupted into involuntary laughter, further agitated by poor Locksley who was left to wiggle out from between them.  The pup seemed to think it a grand game, though, a giant wrestling match, which she supposed it was, and started barking playfully.  

It startled Oliver enough for Felicity to get somewhat of an upper hand and squirm on top of him, trying desperately to tickle Oliver back as she convulsed under his demon hands, Locksley now pouncing on her back, yapping continuously.

“Stop. Stop,” she gasped.  “You’re upsetting your dog.”  Though Felicity was pretty sure Locksley was having as much fun as Oliver was. 

Dammit, Felicity was out-numbered.  That was probably her stupid boyfriend’s evil plan all along.  Should have gotten a girl dog.  That was probably why Oliver didn’t let her pick.  He wanted a boy so they could gang up on her.

“ _Your_ dog,” Oliver corrected, but his fingers slowed and switched from tickling to a caressing.

A shiver ran through her as her skin breathed a sigh of relief at the change of stimulation.  Felicity smiled and stretched out on top of Oliver, conceding, “ _Our_ dog.”

He beamed at that, repeating, “Our dog.” 

Oliver was just about as happy as Felicity had ever seen him.  He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to him tightly as Locksley settled himself on the small of her back. 

But Felicity couldn’t resist teasing, “ _Our_ giant puff ball masquerading as a body guard.”

"He's going to be _terrifying_ , Felicity,” Oliver defended.  “You wait and see.”

“Terrifying, huh?  Like you?”

“I’ll show you terrifying!”  Oliver attacked her with those wicked fingers again, causing her to laugh and convulse, Locksley yelping as he was unseated when Oliver tried to flip their positions.

“Oliver!  Watch the dog!  Poor Locksley.”

“This is why dogs don’t belong on the couch,” Oliver grumbled, lifting the poor confused puppy up and setting him on the ground.

“Yes, I’m sure that's what all the puppy manuals say: ‘Make sure you don’t let your puppy on the couch, it might interfere with a wrestling match with your girlfriend’.”  

“ _Wrestling_ wasn’t what I was worried about him interrupting.”

Oliver was going in for a kiss, one that Felicity was only too happy to accept when the newly displaced Locksley let out a whine.  A whine that turned her heart inside-out. 

“Ohhh, _Oliver_ …”

Frowning, Oliver turned to the dog and gave him what Felicity was sure he _thought_ was a disapproving face (but, in reality, it wasn’t even close) and said, “Oh, none of that now.”

Locksley was so cowed that he let out another whine, amplified by the thump, thump of his tail against the hardwood floors.

Felicity watched the staring contest between her boyfriend and her new puppy and tried not to laugh.  “You _know_ you’re going to crumble any minute now.”  It was only seconds away.  This dog was getting back on the couch, she was sure of it.

Oliver turned his face back to Felicity’s, his eyes narrowed.  “I’ll have you know that I plan on being a very stern—”

There was no controlling her laughter.  The whining and Oliver’s eyes and it was just the funniest thing.

“I can tickle you all night,” Oliver warned, making her laugh harder.

“Oh _no_ ,” Felicity gasped, “the _terrifying_ Oliver Queen tickling his girlfriend into submission, call the police, call ARGUS, call the League of Ass—”

Oliver cut off her blatantly disrespectful teasing with his lips this time.  And if that was playing dirty than Felicity was all for it.  Oliver tasted like rich red wine with raspberry notes and home.  She had the sudden and intense impulse to spread mint chocolate chip ice cream over his skin and see how well it paired. 

“You know you’re the one person the dog and I _aren’t_ supposed to scare, right?”  Oliver rubbed his nose over hers, turning her knees to jelly.  “The fear is for everyone else.”

Then Oliver proceeded to attack her neck, this time with his lips and tongue, and with an intent that was _not_ to tickle.  Felicity tried to remember what they were talking about, but it seemed much more fortuitous to wrap her legs around him and turn her face to give him better access.

Of course, that meant when Felicity opened her eyes it was to stare into those of one sad little puppy.  “Uh, Oliver, we aren’t alone.”

But Oliver just grunted and worked a hand under her shirt.  “The dog will have to get used to this.”

Felicity giggled.  Yup, she was tipsy.  Sure sign.  “Oh…but poor neglected Locksley.” 

“Poor neglected Oliver,” he whispered against her ear, before sucking the lobe between his lips and making her hips buck.

“Yes, _poor Oliver_ ,” Felicity crooned, one hand in his hair encouraging him, the other scratching Locksley’s ear, because he was such a sweet baby.  “How _ever_ are you going to manage?  And now you have to be over all the time too.”

Oliver’s head popped up, his eyes bright as they found hers.  “If you need me around so much I can move back in right now.”  He rolled his hips into hers, clearly demonstrating the benefits of such an arrangement.  It was a _strong_ argument.  “Hell, I’ve got connections in City Hall now.  I could have us married within the hour.”

Felicity giggled uncontrollably at his antics, but—she stopped and tilted her head, narrowing her eyes at him.  “Wait, are you serious?”

His face remained resolute for a whole 30 seconds, before it broke out in a grin.  “No,” Oliver chuckled.  “I mean, I’d love that, but I’m in this for the long game and I think I’ve learned my lesson.  No rushing.  Anything.”

Sighing with…relief, maybe…but probably more like pure besottedness, Felicity accused, “There you go again, being _too_ perfect.” 

She really was just teasing, but the way Oliver’s face fell, made her rethink the exchange.  He pulled away, sitting up.  Maybe Felicity had mentioned the perfect thing one to many times.  But, goodness, they really needed to get past the insecurity part of getting back together. 

Felicity followed him, climbing onto Oliver’s lap, before he could even settle and cupping his cheek.  “It’s okay, you know,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.  “I accept the fact that sometimes you just can’t help being perfect.  It’s who you are.”

It was obvious that Oliver wanted to argue or...something.  But Felicity stared him down and he finally sighed, uncoiling muscle by muscle.  “You know, I think you’re pretty perfect too,” he muttered defensively.  “You don’t see _me_ complaining about it.”

Felicity threw back her head and laughed.  Then, pressing a kiss against his pouting lips, she confessed, “You are the most aggravating, adorable, wonderful man.  Do you know that?”

“I know that it feels like I can’t do anything right sometimes,” Oliver grumbled.

And Felicity would have continued to tease him, but she had the aching feeling that he was being genuine.  He _had_ been on quite the emotional roller coaster over the last twenty-four hours.  “You do a _lot_ right.  You actually do _most_ things better than every man I know.”

Oliver looked up at her, a small smile bending his pout now.  “Except when I get it _really_ wrong.”

“Sometimes you do get it _really_ wrong,” Felicity conceded, running a hand over his rough cheek, trying to soothe.  “But we’re getting better.  And as long as you come and tell me, we can work it through.”

“Like when I impulsively buy a dog without asking?”  Oliver’s eyes were smiling now.  Hopeful.

“Lucky for you, you picked a really good dog.”

Oliver’s dimples peaked out.  “And I apologized right away.  With ice cream and Shiraz.  That counts for something, right?”

And, again, Felicity had to laugh.  “Oliver…”  She shook her head.  “I just…I just can’t _possibly_ express how much I love you.”  

The look on Oliver’s face was not what Felicity was anticipating.  He jerked back, eyes wide as he demanded, “We’re allowed to say that now?  You _said_ we had to wait until date 15!”

Okay, Felicity was going to try really hard not to take offense.  “What date is it now?

“Twelve,” Oliver answered immediately.  “You don’t know?”

Was she supposed to?  “I kinda stopped counting after three.  It didn’t seem to matter after that.”

“It _mattered_ because you said I had to wait until date number 15 to say ‘I love you,’” Oliver accused.

There was a flash of recognition as Felicity remembered.  So…that was why he hadn’t been saying…eek.  She kinda thought it was just them going slow.  Actually, she hadn’t been saying it because he wasn’t. 

“Okay,” Felicity confessed, “number one:  I had had quite a lot of tequila when I said that, so I may have forgotten that _little_ detail until right this moment—”

Oliver’s head fell back.  “ _Fe-li-ci-ty_ …”

“Second:  I _also_ remember saying quite clearly that we needed to be more honest with our feelings.  So, that’s what I’m doing.  Being honest.”  Felicity smiled, purposely playing the cute card, it was only fair since it had been played on _her_ so much tonight.

“Ugh,” Oliver grunted in frustration.  “If had thought _that_ argument would work I’d have been using it from the beginning.  Do you have any idea the torture it’s been not to tell you—?”

Felicity couldn’t stand it.  She smashed their lips together for a ridiculously sloppy, uncoordinated kiss, which she really had very little excuse for, since she’d only had a glass and a half of wine.  Though, she _had_ had her brain scrambled a bit this morning.  So that was something.

“You’re wonderful,” Felicity breathed between kisses, “and, yes, perfect.”  She kissed him again before Oliver could protest.  “And I have no good excuse for all my stupid, inconsistent rules, except,” more kisses, “this whole going slow thing is a _lot_ harder than it looks.”

Oliver laughed breathlessly, grabbing the sides of Felicity’s head and stopping her from mashing their lips together another time.  “I love you.  I love you.  I love you.  I—”

“ _Oliver_ …” Felicity giggled.

But then he reeled her back in and Oliver’s tongue was in her mouth and it was fabulous and his lips were soft and perfect and Felicity wanted to kiss him forever and never stop.  _Ever_.

That was until a thick tongue that did _not_ belong to either of them slobbered across her chin and cheek.

“Uck!” Oliver yanked away, crying, “Locksley!  Down!  Off the couch!”

And the look on Oliver’s face was possibly the funniest thing Felicity had ever.  Laughing uncontrollably, she fell against his shoulder, wiping dog spit off on his t-shirt.  If she had her way, it wouldn’t be staying on very long anyway.

“ _This_ is why no dogs on the couch!” Oliver growled, making Felicity laugh harder.  Bet he hadn’t thought of _this_ when he bought his impulsive, overprotective, sorry-you-got-knocked-out gift.

Locksley, for his part, had jumped off the coach but was on his hind legs, his paws on Oliver’s knee, his tail wagging manically, clearly thinking this was all part of the game.

Oliver shook a finger at him.  “You and I are going to come to an understanding, you hear me?  Locksley?”  Then he turned to Felicity, one eyebrow raised.  “Why _Locksley_?”

“The name?”  Oliver nodded and Felicity sat fully up to look him in the eye.  She would have thought it obvious.  “Think about it.”  Then, just for fun, she endeavored to distract him with her lips. 

It worked pretty well for a while.  Until Oliver pulled back from the kiss, abruptly.  “Oh my God.  Robin of Locksley?”

Felicity nodded, grinning hugely.  She was actually quite proud of the name.  He even looked like a Locksley.

And Oliver's bark of laughter held a measure of pride that warmed her even further.  “I can’t believe you named your—”

“— _our_ —”

“ _Our_ dog…after Robin Hood?”

“Mmmhmm.”  Cause it was genius, right?

“And you’re not worried it’s too obvious?”

Felicity rolled her eyes.  She actually thought that was the brilliant part, that it _wasn’t_ too obvious.  “You named your club after a color green and that was _before_ the Green Arrow was the Star City hero.”

“Excellent point.”  Oliver dimpled.  She’d known that last part would win him over.  “Felicity, I…”

“You love me?” Felicity helpfully supplied.

Oliver’s face softened into that lovesick expression that really just made Felicity’s life worth living.  “I do.  I love you.  Very much.  I…do you have any idea the happiness you bring me.  I swear, I had forgotten how to smile until—”

“Are you going to wax poetic about red pens and bullet filled laptops?” Felicity smirked, loving every second of it.   A fuzzy kind of contentment settled in her bones.  “You know you’re a closet sap, don’t you?”

“Only for you.”  Yet, Oliver didn’t look the least bit insulted.  “I never told you about the first time I saw you, have I?”

Felicity’s brow crinkled.  What was Oliver getting at?  She remembered how they met _quite_ clearly.  “Not at QC?”

“Oh, _at_ QC.”  Oliver rubbed soothing circles on her back with one hand, the other hand doing the same to Locksley who had laid his head on Oliver’s thigh.  “In 2010.”

The math only took a second.  “We met in 2012…weren’t you on Lian Yu in 2010?”

“Part of it.  I was also in Hong Kong for much of it.” Oliver’s eyes drifted away for a moment and he huffed out a bitter little laugh.  “It was a busy year.”

Felicity knew about Hong Kong.  Very few details, of course.  Oliver only gave details when it was absolutely necessary, but she knew he’d been there, why and how.   She knew what Amanda Waller had done to him.  Had made him do.  Felicity hated to think ill of the dead, but… 

“Well, I’m pretty sure _I’ve_ never been to Hong Kong, so—”

“Remember how I told you I came back to Star City…Starling then…once before and saw Thea?” When Felicity nodded, Oliver added, “Amanda Waller forced me to do a mission here.”

Of course, she did.  Now, the story Oliver told her so long ago made _much_ more sense.  “And, I’m going to take a wild, out-of-nowhere guess and say Amanda wouldn’t let you contact your family and let them know you were…say, not dead?” Felicity took back not thinking ill of the dead.  A bitch was a bitch.  Dead or alive.

Oliver gave her a small nod, the faraway look still in his eyes.  “I had to break into QC one night and guess who was still working.”  Felicity pointed at herself and Oliver nodded, his smile coming back. 

“Figures.  I had absolutely no life.”

“You were leaving something on my mom’s desk and picked up a photo of me.”  Oliver's smile was both fond _and_ arrogant.  “You said I was cute and it was too bad that I was dead.”

Okay, this was actually turning into a really embarrassing story.  Seriously, the first time the love of her life saw her, she was working too late and ogling his picture?   Wasn’t that lovely.  Felicity shrugged, trying to seem unaffected, “Well…I really didn't have the best judgement back then.”

“That so?”  Oliver ran his fingers over her ribs in punishment, resulting in a fit of ticklish giggles.  And Felicity had to admit, she probably deserved it.

“Did you _see_ your haircut back then?”  Felicity gasped, wiggling to avoid his evil fingers.

“Just because you destroyed all photographic evidence of _your_ bad style choices…”  But the tickling stopped and Oliver pulled her closer so that their bodies were flush.  “God, I love you.  Even then—”

“You did _not_ love me back then,” Felicity protested, laughing, forgetting her embarrassment.  Why ruminate on it when it had all turned out so well? 

“No,” Oliver chuckled.  “But even then…I just wanted to be near you.”

His tone turned more serious and Felicity’s smile faltered, just imagining what it must have been like for him.  “Why didn’t you stay?  I know Amanda Waller must have threatened you, but I also know _you_ and you could have found a way.”

Oliver crinkled his nose and blew out a breath.  “I might have killed Thea’s drug dealer.”

Felicity winced.  “Riiiight, this is _that_ story.  The one where you wanted to protect her.”   How could she forget?  Sometimes it was hard to keep track of all the fragmented stories she’d been told over the years. 

And, sometimes, it was _easy_ to forget the man Felicity met in 2012.  The man whose morals were much murkier and who could snap a neck…she shuddered, shaking her head to clear the image.

“He’d pulled a knife, but…”  That old, ugly guilt clouded Oliver’s features and she knew he was thinking that he could have disarmed the guy.  That he hadn’t _had_ to kill him.  Felicity ran her nails along his scalp in a soothing pattern and he continued, “Anyway, it was clear I wasn’t fit for human company.  Not my family or…you.”

“I was a stranger,” Felicity reminded him softly, because, while she was flattered that he remembered her, she found it hard to believe Oliver…especially _that_ Oliver believed in love at first sight.

“Yes, you were.”  And his face softened back into a fond, reminiscing look.  He didn’t elaborate.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Felicity asked, searching his face.

Oliver shrugged.  “I dunno.  Not a time I particularly wanted to think about.”

Felicity ran her nails down over his scruff.  “So, why are you telling me now?”

“I…I guess I just wanted you to know.”

That was a _really_ good answer.  Felicity smiled, rewarding him with a slow, sweet kiss.

“I love you,” Oliver murmured as their lips parted.

Felicity chuckled.  “Are you going to keep saying it over and over now?”

“Yup.”  And the look Oliver gave her was completely serious.  “As often as I can.  I’m allowed now.”

A full laugh erupted at that, pleased and happy.  “Yes, you can.”  Felicity pressed another kiss to Oliver’s lips.  “Look at us, communicating.  I think we’re relationshipping rather well.”

Oliver hugged her closer, pressing a kiss to her nose.  “I’m feeling pretty good about it.”

“Well, in the interest of healthy communication, I have a confession.”  Oliver raised an eyebrow and Felicity glanced behind them at Locksley who was still on the floor, staring up at them adoringly, his tail wagging.  “I _may_ have fallen in love at first sight.”  She gestured over her shoulder with a finger.  “With _that_ guy.” 

Oliver let out a bellow of a laugh.  “Should I be jealous?”

"I _suppose_ I have enough room in my heart for both of you.  Though, only time will tell…”

“’Come ‘ere,” Oliver grabbed her and flipped her onto her back, pinning her to the couch, but this time there was no tickling, he just brought his lips too hers and kissed her deeply. 

Just when things were getting nice and hot and heavy, something wet bumped the bare skin where her shirt had ridden up.  Felicity cracked open an eye to see Locksley’s nose butting her.  He let out a whine.

Oliver groaned and turned to the dog, almost pleading, “Come on, buddy.  We’re busy here.”

And, judging by the hard ridge pressed against Felicity’s thigh, they had the potential to be much busier.

“Arrr.  Arf…”

Felicity just had to laugh at how sad and pathetic he sounded.  “You know, Locksley’s been here a while.  No food.  No water.”

“Ugh.”  Oliver’s forehead fell to Felicity’s shoulder.  “He’s a dog.  He can wait a little longer.”

“He’s a _baby_.  And he probably needs a walk.”

Oliver looked up and Felicity now had two boys giving her identical puppy-dog eyes.  She shoved Oliver off of her.  “You wanted a dog.  Now take care of him.”

It wasn’t hard to figure out which one of them won.  After all, Locksley was just a baby and Oliver and Felicity had all the time in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very aware that this chapter is probably 5 pages too long and has so much fluff in it that many of you probably have a toothache, but I couldn’t decide what to cut out and I figured this was fanfiction and a little extra fluff never hurt anyone.  *Shrug*  Also, I’m too in love with Locksley to let go.
> 
> I’m not sure if I am ashamed or not to admit that I spent far more time researching the perfect dog for Oliver and Felicity than I ever did for my own dogs.  It started with a search for “guard dogs that are safe for kids” and this lead me to the Japanese Akita.  I’d never heard of them before.  They are loyal and independent family dogs who will protect their family with their lives.  And, yes, they were bred to take down bears.
> 
> We have the talented **Ireland1733** to thank for the awesome chapter art and Locksley's portrait at the end.  As ever, thank you to **Rayna** for the title art.   Thank you to **Fairytalehearts** for all her hard work (don't forget to try her OFBB fic: _One Last Time_ ).
> 
> A great big thank you _and_ an apology to all the awesome commenters that I haven't gotten to responding to.   Real Life has been seriously kicking my butt lately and I'm woefully behind on my editing for both this and AKOI.  I WILL get to each and every comment.  Eventually.  I even plan to respond to the AKOI comments from back in April before it’s “premiere” in October.
> 
> Don’t forget to let me know what you think.  Thanks for reading!
> 
> Emmy
> 
> http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/


	4. Date 31: Mixology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated “M” with borderline explicit sexual phraseology. Warnings for two adults indulging in excessive and varied alcoholic beverages as well as for excessive fluff. Also, this chapter deviates one hundred percent from any spoilers that have emerged about Season 5. In fact, it could be considered self-indulgent fantasy fulfillment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Years ago, I read something about relationships that has really stuck with me through the years, though I can’t even remember where I read it now.  But it said that most people think of communication and trust as the foundation of a relationship, but in reality (according to this author) the foundation is _fun_.  Couples come together because being together feels good.  And if a couple stops feeling enjoyment in each other’s presence, the relationship is doomed.  So, while trust and communication is _essential_ to any _good_ relationship, without fun, you don’t have a relationship worth saving. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to that author whose name I forgot.

**_July 15, 2016_ **

Oliver was whistling as he walked into Felicity’s apartment building.  That alone was pretty unusual.  He wasn’t really someone who whistled, generally.  At least not since he was a little kid.   Especially since, one) whistling tended to alert someone to his presence.  And two) it was usually something someone did when they were relaxed and happy.

Maybe, he had whistled a bit in Ivy Town.  Oliver really didn’t remember.  If he did, it wasn’t something that he took particular note of like he did today.

But today…today had been a _damn_ good day and it had potential to get even better.

Oliver had had a productive morning at City Hall, so productive that he had actually been able to leave and begin his weekend a little early.  It was a miracle that anything got accomplished there somedays.  Running everything by a goddamn committee was a pain in the ass.  But today, after verbally eviscerating a particularly dickish councilman, an agreement was actually made.  Progress.

_Then_ Oliver received instructions from his girlfriend to bring a bag packed for the weekend and come to the Loft asap. 

No one was in the hospital.  No one was threatening to blow up the city.  Life was about as good as it got for Oliver Queen.    He was about to knock on wood…specifically Felicity’s door, when he remembered her text from earlier today:

**Felicity:**

**And don’t bother knocking.  Come right in.  I have a surprise for you.**

Smiling to himself, Oliver got out his key and opened the familiar lock.  Locksley was in his premium dog bed next to the door (in three weeks he had obtained no less than five such beds between the Loft and the Bunker).  The puppy sat up straight and watchful, intelligent eyes trained on whoever dared entire _his_ home. 

When Oliver stepped in, it was almost as if the dog broke out into a smile, his body relaxing, his mouth falling open, and his tail wagging.  Locksley sprang out of his bed to greet him and Oliver beamed with pride.

“Good boy, Locksley.  That's my boy.”  Scratching his head, Oliver reached into his pocket and produced a treat (healthy and organic of course), and fed it to the happy puppy.

Locksley bathed his face with his tongue.  It was not something Oliver would have ever imagined he would enjoy, but here he was, burying his face in Locksley’s fur and giving _his_ dog a vigorous whole body rub as the puppy licked every patch skin he could find and wriggled in barely contained ecstasy.

Bright late afternoon sunshine flooded the Loft.  It almost felt more like Central City or Ivy Town than Star City today.  But, maybe, Oliver was still just getting used to this whole sleep at night, awake during the day thing.  Oh… and not spending all his free time in basement lairs.  That was defiantly a new thing for him. 

Even the Loft, itself, was cheerful again.  After the breakup, Felicity had packed away all the knickknacks that they had bought together, leaving the apartment as cold and austere as it had been before she had arrived. 

But since they had reconciled, things had trickled back out.  A photograph here, an eclectic vase there.  And, now, the Loft was almost completely back to the way it was supposed to be and Oliver couldn't really express how that made him feel.  

Even the music playing in the background warmed him.  Felicity was playing her bizarre “Everything I Have Ever Liked Playlist.” It consisted of everything from Alternative to Classic Rock, Broadway to Number 1 Pop singles.  It was as varied and unique as she was. 

And the lady in question…she was singing to herself in the kitchen, just slightly off-key.  Felicity had a beautiful voice, but her pitch…it was hit or miss most days.  Instead of calling for her, Oliver quietly made his way to the kitchen, Locksley padding beside him like a shadow.  

This was one of Oliver’s secret, guilty pleasures, finding Felicity unawares, doing her cute, quirky Felicity things.  Dancing around the kitchen in her bare feet, the floral dress Felicity wore (which Oliver was sure looked quite professional this morning), twirled delectably around her thighs and her ponytail swayed to the beat, tendrils escaping at her temple.  In her hands was a drink shaker that she was, well, _shaking_ to the rhythm as she sang and danced.

“Haters gotta hate hate hate hate…”

Oliver swallowed a chuckle and planted himself in the kitchen with his arms crossed and waited…until Felicity danced right into him.  Just as he knew she would.

“Oooff.  You’re here!”

Chuckling, Oliver caught her by the waist.  “I’m here.”  He straightened her glasses, then took the shaker from her hands and placed it on the counter before Felicity dropped it.  “You _said_ to come right in.”

Felicity grinned.  “I _did_ , but I _didn’t_ say to sneak in like sneaky-sneak person.”  She threw an arm around Oliver’s neck and looked down at Locksley, shaking her finger at him, “And _you_ , you’re supposed to let me know if someone is here, so I don’t embarrass myself.”

“First of all, you never need to be embarrassed with me.”  Oliver hauled her closer, pulling her to him so she had to raise herself up onto her toes and he could press their foreheads together.  “And _second_ , Locksley isn’t supposed to bark for family.”  Oh shit…was that overstepping?  Damn, he kept doing that.  “Not that—”

“Well, he did bark so loud the first time Curtis came over I’m pretty sure the neighbors called the cops,” Felicity laughed, completely ignoring his possible faux pas.  Thank God.  “Lucky for me, the cops are way too understaffed to deal with an overzealous puppy.”

Oliver kissed her then.  Actually, he wasn’t sure why it took him so long.  Felicity smiled into it and joined in on the slow slide of lips against lips that quickly moved on to tongues tangled with tongues and the beautiful taste of…Bailey’s?  And, maybe, some Kahlua…or…possibly Butterscotch?

Pulling back, Oliver licked his lips. Then hers for good measure.  He glanced behind Felicity at the disarray in the kitchen.  “What have you been up to?  It looks like you bought out the liquor store.”

“Not quite, I…” Felicity did that adorable little quick head shake, shrug thing she did, blushing and biting her lip.  “I needed a variety of ingredients.  Okay, _so_ …remember how I said that I had good news and, also, that we have something to celebrate?”

“Yeah.”  Oliver also knew that Felicity had had a very important meeting at Palmer Tech today.  And a greeting like this meant that it had to have gone well.  “How did—?”

Felicity’s pointer finger went up, as she interrupted him, “Op!  Patience!”  She leaned back in Oliver’s arms, telling him, “I wanted to do something special, something _more special_ than ordering our favorite take-out, since we do that all the time.  And, unlike you, if I tried to cook, it would be a tragedy, not a celebration.”

“True,” Oliver agreed, in his best somber tone. 

“ _Hey_!”  Felicity smacked him on the shoulder, the way she often did, her intent to hit, but not hurt.  The result being it didn’t even sting.  “If it weren’t so obviously true, I’d be insulted.”

Chuckling, Oliver readjusted his arms around her to pull her even closer.  “Give me one thing.  _One_ _thing_ that I’m better at than you.”

“I think there’s more than _one thing_ …” Felicity swayed toward him before catching herself.  “Stop!  You’re distracting me!  How did you distract me already?”  Felicity babbled and Oliver was beginning to suspect she was already tipsy, which was odd because she wasn’t really a drinking by herself kinda girl.  “So, I decided if I couldn’t cook, I’d try my hand at Mixology.”

“Mixology?”  Seriously?  Well, that would explain the tipsy.

“Yes, the art of mixing alcoholic—”

“I Know what mixology is, Felicity,” Oliver interrupted, looking behind her at all the bottles on the counter.  “I just don’t know…what’s this new thing you have with alcohol?”

“What?”  Felicity smacked him again.  Harder this time.  “I don’t have a _thing_ with alcohol.  I haven’t had hard liquor since the tequila…oh…oh… I didn’t get any tequila.”  She twirled out of his arms, obviously distressed.  “None of the drinks I found had any.  How could none of them have _tequila_?”

Oliver glanced over Felicity’s new collection…one he really hoped she would _not_ be taste-testing on the nights he wasn’t there.  There was soft stuff like Bailey’s and Kahlua, various Schnapps, but there was also Southern Comfort and Royal Crown and…good _God_ , was that Jägermeister?  Failing out of college number three could be blamed almost _entirely_ on Jägermeister.

“I really don’t think we need tequila.”

“But it’s my favorite,” Felicity pouted.  She was _definitely_ already tipsy.    

"Since when?”  Because that was definitely new.

Felicity tipped her head to the side and looked at Oliver with a dreamy expression.  “Since the night we got back together.”

Oliver growled at that. Christ, she turned him on.   Lunging for Felicity, he easily captured her again, but it also inspired another bout of the giggles.  At least, until he was able to capture her lips and push all such nonsense from her mind.   

Felicity’s words made Oliver simultaneously want to claim her and savor her.  Her laugher turned to hums of pleasure as she enthusiastically drew his tongue into her mouth.  Delicious.  Definitely, Baileys and Butterscotch. 

“You’ve been starting without me,” Oliver murmured into her mouth.  “Bailey’s tastes good on you.”

"I’ve been taste testing,” Felicity explained with a cute little nod of her head.

Chuckling, Oliver pointed out, “You know, I’m not sure mixed drinks really counts as dinner.  It sounds kind of dangerous, actually.” 

Good thing there was nothing on the Arrow radar for tonight.  Even so, Oliver wondered if Felicity would be insulted if he whipped some food up real quick.  Or they could order pizza.  He was kind of hungry.

“Of course not.  I have _food_ too!” Felicity protested with an eye roll, sounding somewhat insulted as she pulled out of Oliver’s arms.  “In fact, all major food groups have been represented.”

Uhh Ohh.  Now, Oliver was really getting worried.

Grabbing a pot holder, Felicity pulled a tray out of the oven.  “Ta-da!!”  She revealed her specialty.  Pigs in blankets.  “See, protein _and_ grains!”

Oliver chuckled.  Mostly from relief.  “Oh, I’ll give you protein.  Sort of.  I don’t know about grains—”

“Oh shut up, you.”  Felicity waved her hand at him, dismissively.  “The blankets are a bread product, therefor… _grain_.”

"Arf!” came a dignified little yelp.  

Locksley had suddenly appeared at Felicity’s feet.  Then, before Oliver could say a word, Felicity slipped the dog one of her prefabricated appetizers.

Seriously?  Is this what went on when Oliver wasn’t there?  He had very carefully researched Locksley’s diet.  “Felicity!  Not only are dogs not supposed to have pork—”

“Not pork.  _Kosher_ hot dogs.  Therefore, _beef_.”

Really not the point.  “Regardless, it isn’t healthy for him.  And you just reinforced his bad behavior—” 

“Don’t worry, baby,” Felicity crooned to Locksley, bending down and giving him a good rub.  “Daddy will be less cranky after he’s had some of mommy’s drinks.”

“Ugh,” Oliver groaned.  “I’m not his _daddy_ , Feli—”

“Shush!” Felicity told him sternly, before grabbing a large bowl and plopping it down on the breakfast bar, next to the pigs in blankets.  “We also have corn in the form of corn tortillas.”

“Which counts as a starch, but not a vegetable,” Oliver pointed out, still feeling argumentative over their conflicting puppy parenting styles.

“ _Which_ ,” Felicity ignored Oliver's tone, instead pulling two smaller bowls from the fridge, “is why I have represented both fruits _and_ vegetables in the form of chunky garden salsa and mango salsa.  Both from the organic Deli down the street that you love so much.”

And just like that, most of Oliver’s irritation melted away.  It _was_ his favorite.  Felicity was clearly trying very hard to make this night special.  They could discuss Locksley’s dining habits later.  Maybe, he should pull together some graphs.  Felicity _was_ a math person.

“It looks fantastic, honey.”  Oliver dropped a peck on Felicity cheek and grabbed an appetizer.  He had a feeling he’d need the fortification for everything his girl had planned this evening.  “Now, are you going to tell me what we are celebrating?”

Felicity beamed at the praise.  “Yes…but first….” She danced back behind the counter and grabbed her abandoned shaker.  As she poured her concoction (green, Oliver noted) over ice, he settled into a stool next to the chips and his favorite salsa.     

“Cheers!” Felicity announced, brightly, pushing one glass toward him and lifting hers high.

“Cheers.”  Oliver clinked his drink with hers and leaned in for a quick kiss before drinking. 

“Interesting.”  Sweet.  He could barely taste the alcohol, which was dangerous.  “What’s it called?”

“The _Leg Spreader_.”

Oliver choked on this fruity girl drink.  “The _Leg Spreader_?”

“Mmm Hmm.  Not to be confused with the _Wyoming Leg Spreader_.”  Felicity twirled away and came back with a tumbler that was definitely not green, but rather a dark brown.  “This one has coke, Grain Alcohol and Raspberry Liquor.”

Oliver’s eyes widened.  “You used Everclear?”  Felicity nodded, but judging by the innocent look in her eyes, it was clear she had no idea what she was dealing with.  Shaking his head, he asked, “You know that stuff’s like _pure_ alcohol?  It’s practically rubbing alcohol.”

Felicity’s eyes flew to the bottle and picked it up to examine the label closely.  “Huh.  No wonder it tastes terrible.”

Chuckling, Oliver sipped the ‘terrible’ drink.  Actually, it was rather good.  At least he could taste the alcohol in this one.  Similar name or not, the drinks couldn’t be more different.

 “I think I prefer the Wyoming, the other’s too girly.” 

“Well, I prefer this one.”  Felicity plunked a straw into her green girly drink.  “Besides, shouldn’t the ‘ _Leg Spreader’_ be for girls—women, I mean?”

“Excellent point,” Oliver conceded with a grin.  “Do I…detect a theme with tonight's drinks?”

“Why, yes, you do.”  Felicity leaned over the counter and smiled wickedly at him.  “Try googling ‘suggestive cocktails’ someday.  You wouldn’t _believe_ what comes up.”

“Actually, I think I would.”  Oliver crooked a finger at her, urging Felicity to lean further over the counter to meet his lips.  They actually managed a rather deep kiss, considering.  It was incredibly erotic, as a matter of fact, with only their mouths touching, their tongues entwined, the massive kitchen island between them.  It heightened and concentrated all sensation at the connection.

When it ended, Oliver found himself short of breath and his jeans tight.  “You better tell me your news soon or we’re never going to get to it,” he warned, his voice rough.

Felicity flushed, her eyes shining.  “Right.  Good.  So…”

“So…?” Oliver prompted, sitting back, digging into the chips and trying to ignore his annoyed cock.

Taking a deep breath, Felicity began, “Remember how when PT stocks bottomed out, I asked you about any money you had hidden away?”

Oliver nodded. “I cleaned out two out of three of my emergency accounts.  We had better not have to go on the run anytime soon.”

“I should certainly hope not.  Especially since we’ve committed to…no, no tangents.  Anyway…” Felicity shook her head, almost like she was trying to reset her busy brain.  Or clear the alcohol fog.  Either way, she was too damn cute.  “I appreciate not only the money, but that you gave up…two out of three of your obsessive freak-out zombie-apocalypse funds.  It shows growth.”

“Drink your _Leg Spreader_ ,” Oliver grumbled, making Felicity laugh.  Though, she did as she suggested and seemed quite happy to do so. 

“Though I appreciate the confidence, I _did_ find it strange that you didn’t ask me what I wanted the money for,” Felicity teased.

Oliver shrugged, reaching over for more pigs in a blanket.  “You used it to buy stock, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes—”

“So…?”  He wasn’t an idiot.  Sometimes, people seemed to forget Oliver was perfectly capable to putting two and two together.

“So…” Felicity broke out in a huge grin, bouncing on her feet. “You and I combined now own a total of 51.2% of PT stock!”

Oliver was surprised at how profound the relief he felt was.  It was about fucking time!  And _this time_ he was going to make sure that no lunatics could touch that damn stock.  _We got it back, Mom.  I’m sorry it took so long._

Reaching across the counter, Oliver took Felicity’s hand and squeezed it tight.  “You are remarkable.  Thank _you_!”

“Thank _you_!” Felicity squeezed back, practically giddy.  “If it weren’t for your speech about being ashamed of what had become of the company, stocks wouldn’t have gotten low enough for us to buy this much.”

Oliver winced.  “Well, that wasn’t exactly my intention, but…” 

“Wait!  It gets _so_ much better.”  Felicity pulled her hand away.  She was far too animated in that moment to stay tethered to anything.  “Curtis and Paul now own 6% of the company.  And Walter 10%.  That 2/3 of the vote, baby!  _Bam_!  Drop the mic!”

Felicity threw her hands in the air and Oliver wondered if he was supposed to clap.  Apparently not, because she just kept on talking.  “But here’s the best part.  The Board, they hadn’t figured this out yet.  So, they call me Curtis in to _magnanimously_ offer us our jobs back.”

Oliver barked out a laugh, enjoying the show and the salsa, while perhaps discretely slipping a few chips to Locksley.  He _was_ being good, sitting so quietly at his feet.

“They even told us that they’ve fired Mr. Dennis, as if that would entice us back.  They were rather proud of themselves.”

“Having no idea that you now _own_ the company?”  Oliver couldn’t help but smirk a bit around his _Wyoming_.

“That _we_ now own the company,” Felicity corrected firmly, before bouncing like child.  “But, no.  No clue.  It was _glorious_.  We tell them that, guess what, you aren’t in a position to hire or fire _anyone_.  We own the company and, yup, I’m CEO again and Curtis, he’s VP and all of you,” she gestured wildly as if they sat in front of her. “ _Fired_!  _Fired!   Fired_!”

“Seriously?” Oliver choked on his laugh that time.  “You fired the _entire_ board.”

Felicity took a long drink from her straw, sipping until Oliver could hear the sounds of slurping the last dregs from the bottom of the glass.  Uh oh.  “Yup.  Well, maybe we’ll hire a few of the good ones back.  But we were making a statement.  Nobody messes with us!”

“Bam?”

“Bam!” Felicity agreed, beaming, even showing her jazz hands.

“That’s my girl!”  God, Oliver was so proud of her.  “Get over here.”

“Oh no!” Felicity danced out of his reach, which probably wasn’t necessary since there was still a breakfast counter between them. “You haven’t heard the best part.”

“There’s more?”  What else could there be? 

“I got a call from the Veteran’s Association.  Not a nonprofit group, the _actual_ government division in charge of Vets.  We negotiated a price and…”  Felicity let out a squeal she just couldn’t seem to contain.  “Curtis’ Bio Stimulant is going to be made available to every man or woman who has ever served in the military and has been wounded during service to their country.  We’re even going to make a profit!”

“Oh wow.  Felicity, that’s…” Oliver held out his hands to her and she grabbed them, jumping up and down.  “That’s _incredible_.”

“Well, it’s not a huge profit, but it’s a profit.  And we’re in negotiations with the Christopher Reeves Foundation to help subsidize civilian implants.  We’re going to be able to help people _and_ turn the company around.”

There were tears in her eyes and Oliver couldn’t stand it anymore.  He stalked around the goddamn counter and pulled her into his arms.  “Felicity.  You’re just…” He shook his head.  It was times like this, when he just couldn’t find the words.  “I told you you were the best person for the job.  I don’t think the company has ever been in better hands.”

If Oliver didn’t think Felicity’s smile could get any wider, he was wrong, because it did, seconds before she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.  Hard. 

The fervent press of lips against lips quickly turned deep and sexy.  Triumph and liquor roared though both their veins, making them just this side of wild.  It was warm and passionate and fucking fantastic.  Oliver cupped her head and urged it to the side with one hand, settling the other on the curve of her ass.  This was one _damn_ good day.  For once fate was on _their_ side.

“So,” Felicity murmured, taking one last nip at Oliver’s lip.  “What do you want to try next, a _Slow Comfortable Screw_ or a _Royal Fuck_?”

Oliver blinked.  It took him a minute to realize that Felicity was talking about drinks and not offering bedroom options.  “Can I have both?”  And, maybe, _he_ was talking more about bedroom options.  Come to think of it, he had plans for a whole _range_ of things tonight. 

Felicity’s grin was wicked.  “Absolutely!”  And she twirled out of Oliver’s arms, back to her make-shift bar.

It wasn’t until she was no longer touching him that Oliver realized he may have made a mistake.  If these new drinks were as strong as the _Wyoming Leg Spreader_ then _both_ was a bad idea.   “Though, maybe, we should share them.  That way we can try more kinds?”

“Smart!  Don’t want anyone passing out too early.”  Felicity threw Oliver a wink from over her shoulder, before turning her eyes to her tablet and scrolling over what must be her recipes.   “I’m not sure about the _Three Legged Monkey_.  But, oooo…I want to try the _Pop My Cherry_.”

Crossing his arms, Oliver leaned against the counter and enjoyed watching his girlfriend enjoying herself.  “Hate to break it to you, hon, but I think that boat has already sailed.”

“For Cherry Vodka,” Felicity smirked, “I’ll pretend.”  She started pouring ingredients into the rinsed out shaker.  “I think we should get all the fruity drinks done first, then go for the creamy ones.  Since they probably won’t mix very well.  Don’t you think?”

“Uh, I think you better have some more pigs in blankets.”  Oliver grabbed the tray and held it out to her.   “How much do you think the two of us can drink?”  Felicity kept pulling out glasses.  He didn’t even know they _owned_ that many glasses.

Felicity popped an appetizer into her mouth, then waved her hand dismissively, shaking the drink, then pouring, as she chewed.  She really wasn’t bad at this Mixology thing.  Oliver wondered if he should be worried. 

“Oh, we don’t have to _finish_ any of them.  It’s just a sampling.  For fun.”

And Oliver was certainly having fun.  It was a strange thing.  Fun.  Something he’d known even less of than happiness over the last nine years.

“So, I didn’t get any of the stuff for _Liquid Viagra_ ,” Felicity went on, one eye on her tablet as she rinsed out the shaker and started her second drink.  “I just don’t think we need any of _that_.”

“Absolutely not!”

Oliver may have said it a little _too_ vehemently because it set off a trill of giggles.  Hiccupping a bit, Felicity told him, “Plus, Jägermeister and Red Bull sounds like more of a recipe for a stroke than sexy times.”

Reflexively, Oliver gagged.  “It sounds _disgusting_.”

“That too.”  Felicity nodded as she snagged two more pigs, popping one in her mouth and slipping the other to Locksley.  She didn’t think Oliver noticed.  But he did.  Oh he did.  To be fair, though, she did great job of distracting him when she asked, “How about _1-900-FUK-MEUP_?”

Now, his Felicity, she just didn’t have a _dirty_ mouth. So her saying these things, so casually, it was kind of doing something to him.  Still, Oliver managed to say, very sensibly he might add, “Honey, I’m a hundred percent certain that we do _not_ need anything called _1-900-FUK-MEUP.”_

Felicity frowned down at whatever nonsense she was staring at on her tablet, her face scrunched up adorably. “There are too many ingredients in that one anyway.  Let’s see… _Fuzzy Navels_ are boring.  Everyone’s had one of those…. Oh!  Oh oh oh…we _must_ try the _Sex with an Alligator_!”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Oliver laughed, finishing his Wyoming and doing a pretty good job on the tortillas chips as well.  He wouldn’t mind some _actual_ dinner.  “Why would anyone want to have sex with an alligator?”

“Who cares?  Look how cool this looks!”  Felicity turned the tablet around to show him the multilayered, even greener, drink.  “We _must_ try it!”

Oliver threw his hands up in surrender.  Far be it from him to argue with the bartender.  Especially when she was this delightful.  “If we _must_.”

_Sex with an Alligator_ was a more complicated drink than the rest, with layers and what-not.  Watching Felicity put it together in a martini glass, biting her lip in concentration was both adorable and incredibly sexy.  And, while Oliver could watch the love of his life gracefully (or not so gracefully as the case may be) flitting around the kitchen for hours, the innuendo and the flirting and the kisses…they had him ready to move this to the bedroom.

Oliver wondered if Felicity had any clue as to how a little bit of alcohol changed the way she moved, made everything a little slower, a little more sensual, took away the anxious, quick, determined edge she usually had and let her body just take over, so she moved with an even more natural sex appeal. 

“Here we go,” Felicity announced, proudly, lining the _Sex with an Alligator_ up next to her three other drinks.  Four drinks total.  Christ, they better be weak.

“Impressive.” And Oliver actually meant it.  They looked great.  He’d bet Felicity learned more than card counting in Vegas.  “The alligator one is almost too beautiful to drink.”

“Oh no,” Felicity laughed, coming around to his side and pulling Oliver with her.  “That would be no fun at all.”

Oliver sat in the stool and shifted back so that Felicity could half-sit on the seat in front of him, lounging back against his chest.  He spread a hand over her middle and pressed a kiss on her cheek before asking, “So where do we start?” gesturing to the row of drinks.

“Ok, so this one here is our _Royal Fuck_ —”

Oliver laughed and shook his head.  “How do these stupid names sound so damn sexy coming from your lips?”

“That’s ‘cause you got it bad, honey,” Felicity drawled, head lolling on his shoulder as she looked up at him.

“That I do.”  Oliver pressed a lingering kiss on her neck.  There was no arguing with that.

“And here’s the _Pop My Cherry_ and our _Slow Comfortable Screw_.”

“ _That_ sounds really good right now,” Oliver murmured into her ear, before taking the lobe into his mouth and sucking. 

Felicity lets out an odd, but, somehow, sexy sound that started out as a moan and turned into a giggle, then went back to a moan.  But she persevered, very determined they enjoy her masterpieces.  “And, of course, _this_ is our _Sex with an Alligator_.  Stop, trying to distract me,” she grumped, pulled her head away from his questing mouth.  “Let’s Drink!”

Oliver could point out that Felicity’s hand was busy kneading his thigh, but decided it was unimportant (and that hand might stop) so…

They started tasting the various concoctions, debating the pros and cons of each.  Oliver had to say, even with his wide and varied experiences with alcohol _before_ , he didn’t think he had ever had so much _fun_ drinking before.  Though, it probably helped that he was sober enough to know what was going on.

Felicity would lean back on Oliver’s chest as she sipped, then hold the glass up for him to try, making stupid innuendoes that often made no sense what-so-ever.  It was so easy to forget…everything.  Anything that wasn’t right there in his arms (and maybe at his feet, because Locksley wouldn’t be completely ignored.)

The drinks were much stronger than Oliver expected (and hoped). Felicity seemed disappointed that none of them approached the sweet fruitiness of _The_ _Leg Spreader,_ but that just made it easier to make sure that she only had a few sips of each. 

The _Slow Comfortable Screw_ was, unfortunately, terrible.  Oliver enjoyed the _Royal Fuck_ , though it was way too much for Felicity.  She preferred the _Three Legged Monkey_ , but it was still damn strong and Oliver had to keep distracting her from drinking too much.   

Oliver felt the _Pop My Cherry_ was the winner, even if its name was far from relevant, but Felicity was rather disappointed that it tasted like vodka and not like cherries.  Apparently, she felt a fruit flavored vodka should taste more like a cordial than a vodka.    

“Okay, time for _Sex with an Alligator_.” Felicity rubbed her hands together with excitement, making Oliver laugh, he couldn’t really imagine it would be any more exceptional than the rest.  And the green and brown was interesting, but not all that appetizing.  She went to grab it, but then pulled her hand back.  “You try it first.  I don’t want to ruin all the pretty layers.”

Oliver almost protested, out of well ingrained chivalry, but then he remembered that one of his goals here was to make sure he drank _at least_ twice as much as Felicity.  He wanted her to make it through the night. 

So he took a careful sip of her masterpiece.  “Whoa…” Oliver blinked, the strong, sweet flavors flooding his tongue.  “That’s…that’s not what I expected.”

“You didn’t think something called _Sex with an Alligator_ would be tame, did you?”  Felicity dissolved into giggles and Oliver had to tighten his arm around her waist to make sure she didn’t slide off the stool and collapse on the floor.

He took another sip, just to try to figure out what the hell they were drinking, before handing it to Felicity with no better clue than before.  But it was too sweet to be _that_ bad, right?  It was more the unusual flavors that had him thrown than the strong taste of alcohol.  

“What’s in it?”

Felicity used both hands, wisely, to drink from the martini glass.  “Ooo…wow…yeah, I think that’s the Jäger.”

“ _Jägermeister_?” Oliver gapped.  “You put _Jägermeister_ in this?  How did I miss you pouring _that_?”  But, yeah, that was _definitely_ the taste he was having trouble placing.

Giggling was pretty much a state of being for Felicity at this point as she gasped out, “I’m stealthy.”  She tilted back her head to use a stage whisper and say, “I’ve been taking lessons from my _Lover.”_ Then she was unable to speak at all, due to the fits of laughter that followed.

Oliver took the half-finished drink from her hand, before they both wound up wearing it, and placed it on the counter.  Then he turned Felicity to face him and stopped the giggles with his lips.

Once Oliver had Felicity panting and appropriately serious, he murmured, “I think we’ve had enough.  How about we take this upstairs—”

“No!”  Felicity yanked herself out of his arms and half-danced, half-stumbled back to the kitchen.  “We have _so_ many more drinks to try.”

“Honey, we try many more and we won’t make it up the stairs.”  And by ‘we’ Oliver meant Felicity.  And he was one secret Jägermeister shot away from being unable, and unwilling, to risk carrying her.

But Felicity shot him a look so hot…a look that said she saw _no reason_ to go upstairs and that she was _very_ open to counter sex.  And since that suited Oliver just fine…

Felicity pulled over her tablet to look over her recipes again and blinked her eyes rapidly.  Oliver wondered if the words were blurring yet.  He was starting to feel rather _warm_ himself.   

“So, do you prefer your _Nipples Buttery_ or _Slippery_?”

Oliver laughed.  He just couldn’t help himself.   “I prefer them to be yours.”  And he punctuated the comment with a smirk, which Felicity returned, her eyes shining.

“We also have the _Sex Machine_ and the _Screaming Orgasm_ …”

“A classic.”

“For good reason,” Felicity agreed, scrolling down.  “How about a _Sit on My Face_.”

“I’m up for it if you are,” Oliver returned, thoroughly enjoying himself.

“I’ll bet you are.”  But Felicity didn’t seem to realize he was much more interested in the real thing, or maybe she did, but chose to ignore it as she started to pull out ingredients.

Looked like they were doing this, against Oliver’s better judgment.  Oh well.  In for a penny.  “I need to see you do a _Blowjob_.” 

Though weak and girly, it was one of the most fun shots to do and it had been forever since Oliver had one.  Or seen a girl he was interested in do one.  Just thinking about Felicity doing it made his cock twitch.  As long as he didn’t drink enough to affect _that,_ he was good. 

“My, aren’t we demanding today.”  Then Felicity leaned over the counter to say against Oliver’s lips.  “I’ll do you one better.  How about a _Deep Throat_?”

Her voice was deep and sultry and…Oliver closed his hand over the back of her head and yanked her in with a growl, showing her with his tongue how he planned on acting out all these ridiculous names. 

Except the alligator one.  That was just stupid. 

“As long as you drink it like a _Blow Job_ ,” Oliver breathed into her mouth.

Felicity blinked owlishly from behind her glasses, taking a moment to catch up.  “Is there a special way to drink it?”

“Oh, my love, you’ve never done a _Blow Job_ shot?” Oliver asked, surprised.  He figured they’d have had those at MIT too.  But Felicity’s shrug told him that they hadn’t or, at least, his former rebel hadn’t run into them.  “Then line ‘em up, baby,” he demanded playfully, slapping the counter since her ass was out of reach.

Giggling and smiling like a loon, Felicity pulled out the Green Arrow shot glasses.  Baileys.  Kahlua.  Whip cream.  “If you like this,” Felicity said coyly, “can I also make you a _Cock Sucking Cowboy_?”

“Uhh.  No.”  Oliver refused to justify his position.  Or even think about it any further.  Just no.

“Come on,” Felicity ribbed, knowing exactly what she was doing.  “It sounds _delicious_.”

Enough of that.  “Shut up and come here.”  And the fact that he not only _said_ that to _Felicity_ but that she _came_ , just proved how drunk both of them must be getting.

“So, it’s like this.”  Oliver pulled a shot in front of him and placed his hands behind his back, then leaned over and closed his lips around the rim of the shot glass, capturing it with his teeth before throwing his head back to swallow the creamy mixture.

When Oliver turned to look at Felicity, her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were glazed.  “Oh… _my_ … God…  How did I not know you could do that?  How did I not know this _existed_?”

Oliver smirked, enjoying the look in her eyes.  “You want to see how I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue?”

“Yes, please.”  Felicity nodded fervently for emphasis.

Oliver laughed and pulled Felicity into a deep kiss.  It seemed much more prudent to show her his technique with her _tongue_ rather than a silly cherry stem. He tasted the mixture of the sweet fruit juices and the heady tang of the different liquors.  “After you do your shot I’ll show you anything you want.”  He pushed the other _Deep Throat_ toward her.

Felicity wrinkled her nose.  “I don’t know if I can do _that_.”

“Sure you can.  Just lock the glass in your teeth and keep your lips sealed around the rim.  What could go wrong?”  Oliver grinned, because no matter what, it was going to be awesome.

Felicity shot him a skeptical look, but clasped her hands behind her back and closed her lips over the glass.  Oliver groaned out loud.  _Fuck,_ that was hot.  No wonder this shot was so beloved by men and boys everywhere.

She threw it back like a champ, though Oliver had to catch the shot glass when she was done.  Felicity came up coughing as she swiped her arm across her mouth.

Oliver pulled her to him before she could catch her breath, too in awe to do anything but praise, “You are _spectacular_!” 

He tipped her head back and tasted whip cream and Baileys on her lips.  It was quickly becoming one of his favorite tastes.  He pulled her up, straddling his lap, cupping her ass, holding her against him in the high stool.

When Felicity started grinding down in a slow but steady rhythm on his already hard cock, Oliver almost lost it.  He was _so_ done with foreplay.  He picked her up and set her on the counter, attacking her neck with his teeth as his hand found its way under her skirt.

“Oliver, I think…” 

And Oliver had no idea how Felicity was thinking at all between the alcohol and the… _everything_ else, but, clearly, he wasn’t trying hard enough.  He ran his palm up her thigh, his thumb finding the edge of her panties

“This isn’t the _plan_ ,” Felicity moaned, even as her head fell back and her legs spread.  “I had a plan.”

“Later,” Oliver growled, running his stubble over her upper chest in a way he _knew_ Felicity liked, wishing this dress was a little _less_ professional.  His free hand ran over her back.  Did this thing have a zipper or buttons?

“No.  I think…I think I forgot something…”

Felicity let out a long, low moan as Oliver fingers found their way under her panties.  He was just congratulating himself for his victory when she caught him off guard, shoving him off of her, making him stumble.

“ _Wait_!  I forgot.  I forgot your surprise!”

Oliver found himself standing in the middle of the kitchen wondering what the hell just happened.  “Isn’t this the surprise?” he moaned, gesturing to the counter littered with bottles and trying not to get irritated in his frustration. 

“No!” Felicity whimpered, looking genuinely distraught.  “And I _forgot_.  I was supposed to do it _before_ we started drinking so much.”

His irritation melted away in the face of her unhappiness.  The last thing he wanted was Felicity to be upset.  Oliver placed gentle hands on her thighs.  “It’s okay, we can do it later—”

“No.  _Now_.”  Felicity grabbed onto his shoulders and jumped off the counter.  It was all Oliver could do to keep her from falling as she landed precariously on the floor.

“Okay then…now.”  Oliver sighed.  It didn’t seem like he had much of a choice anyway.

Felicity crouched down and called to the dog, “Locksley, baby, come to Mommy.”

Oliver’s head fell back and he groaned.  He _hated_ when she did that.  How were they going to teach Locksley that they were in charge if Felicity persisted in acting like he was their child?

“Locksley, remember how we practiced?”  Felicity cupped his muzzle in her hands and looked him in the eye.  She did _realize_ he wasn’t a person, didn’t she?  “Now go get Daddy’s present.”  She pointed off to the Livingroom and the puppy bounded off.

_“Fe-li-ci-ty,”_ Oliver moaned, rubbing a hand down his face.  “I’m _not_ his Daddy.”

“Of course, you are,”  Felicity waved off his words dismissively, while, simultaneously, giving Oliver her other hand to help her stand.

“He’s a _dog_.  We’re people.”  Why was this so hard for her to understand?

“And we _adopted_ him.”  Felicity didn’t even bother to look at Oliver, she was watching her ‘baby’ in the Livingroom.  “Come on, sweetie.  Gooood boy!”  She clapped and Locksley came prancing back with a long flat box in his mouth.

It was damn impressive and Oliver wanted to praise him too, but he had a point to make.  “We’re Locksley’s owners.  Not his parents.”

“Shush, you’ll hurt his feelings.”

“He doesn’t speak English.  Or… _Human_.  He doesn’t have feel…” Oliver broke off as Locksley bounded over to him and presented him the box.  It was so cute and the puppy looked so hopeful…Oliver couldn’t help but smile, a swell of pride forming in his chest.  “Hey, there, buddy.  What do you have there?” 

Sitting in a kitchen chair, Oliver easily took the box from his teeth.  It was barely even marked.  Oliver scratched Locksley’s ear and the dog closed his eyes in bliss.  “Good boy.  _Good boy_.”

He was handing Locksley a treat when Felicity said, “Such a proud _Pa-pa_ ,” smothering a giggle behind her hand.

Oliver threw her a withering glare (at least, he hoped it was.  She looked far from withered), warning, _“Fe-li-ci-ty…”_

“You know…they say dogs are practice children.”  Felicity was rocking on her feet and smiling just like the child she was referencing.

Rolling his eyes, Oliver turned his eyes back to the _currently_ more sensible member of the family.  The dog.  “I didn’t get a _practice child_.  I got _a fierce protector_.  Isn’t that right, buddy?”

Felicity just patted Oliver’s shoulder, saying condescendingly, “I’m sure our human children will be that too.”

And after that, even with the mocking tone, Oliver just couldn’t find the heart to argue anymore.  He just felt so… _much_.  He tipped his face up to Felicity and smiled.  “I love you.”

He grabbed her hand to pull Felicity onto his lap, but she protested, “Wait, silly.  Open it.”

“Oh right,” Oliver muttered, feeling rather silly, holding the present like an idiot.  He pulled at the red ribbon and lifted off the top.  Then froze.   “It’s a key.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Oliver blinked, stupidly.  But he was a little bit drunk and his heart was starting to roar in his ears, so maybe that was understandable. “It looks like a key to the Loft.” 

“Mmmhmm.”

“I already _have_ a key to the Loft.” 

“ _Yes_.  But you refuse to use it.”

Oliver swallowed.  He didn’t want to jump to conclusions.  Conclusions were dangerous.  He needed to be sure.  “But I used it today—”

“Oh, for God’s sake.”  Felicity threw up her hands.  “You _are_ slow on the uptake today.”  But still Oliver could only stare up at her, his heart in his throat.  “I knew we should have done this _before_ the drinking.  It’s a _symbol_ , Oliver.”

Blowing out a breath.  Oliver braced himself and asked in a pathetically small voice, “You’re asking me to move back in?”

“Yes.” 

It was a simple word, but it brought tears to his eyes and Oliver had trouble looking away from the key.  It had Akita keychain and a green ribbon.  They had talked about this, but he…he had really tried not to presume anything.  Not to get his hopes too high.

Felicity’s hand rubbed circles on Oliver’s back.  “I figure with me going back to work at PT, we wouldn’t get to spend as much time together.  It seemed silly to waste it by sleeping in separate places.  Plus, it’s not good for Locksley to see his parents separated,” she tried for a joke, but it fell a little flat.  He appreciated it, though.

Oliver cleared his throat.  “You think, we’re, um…that we’ve had enough time?”  Because, frankly, the idea of messing this up, _again_ , was terrifying.

“Oliver?” Felicity asked softly.  “What number date is this?”

Automatically, without even pausing to think, Oliver replied, “Thirty-one.”

He felt Felicity’s hand on his chin, urging him up to look at her.   Oliver was rewarded with the sweetest smile.  “Don’t you think it’s time to stop counting?”

“I like counting.  It…”  Oliver had no idea what it was.  He didn’t even know why he was arguing with her.  “I don’t know.  I guess, it just feels like I…we’re accomplishing something.”  Like the higher the number went, the more likely it would stick this time.

Tilting her head to the side, Felicity’s smile wobbled a bit.  “When are you planning to stop?”

“Counting?” Honestly?  Oliver bit his lip.  “When I die?  Hopefully, at age 86, in my sleep with you lying next to me in our bed?”

Great, now Felicity was teary-eyed too.  This was not what Oliver intended.  He didn’t know what he intended.  But this wasn’t it.

But then Felicity ran her nails through his stubble in a way that always soothed him deep in his bones, murmuring,  “Don’t you tell me you’re not related to Locksley when you look at me like this,” and Oliver was finally able to crack a smile.  “ _I’m_ ready for you to move back home.  Are _you_ ready?”

“Yes,” Oliver croaked, nodding for good measure, just in case it wasn’t decisive enough.

_God_ , he wanted to come home. 

The music changed.  Some sappy love song that Oliver didn’t know the words to.  “Dance with me?”

Felicity looked a little taken aback by the request.  “Since when do you dance?” 

But Oliver was already dragging Felicity out of the kitchen into a wide open space in the center of the Loft.  “Since now,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms.

The mix cooperated and played one sentimental song after another.  It was perfect and Oliver had no desire to do anything except stay like this forever.  Swaying to stupid love songs.  Felicity’s hand curled in his.  His palm on the small of her back.  Her cheek resting on his chest.  The smell of her hair tickling his nose as they dance in _their_ Loft.  _Theirs_.  While _their_ dog watched lazily from the premium puppy bed that they’d picked out together.

They didn’t talk.  They didn’t really have to.  Sometimes, they sang lyrics to each other when they seemed to fit.  It was pretty damn sappy, but Oliver figured the fifteen or so shots of alcohol his girl had fed him were as good an excuse as any.  Plus, who would know?  He could be as sappy as he wanted in _their_ home. 

Felicity’s hand had just started to wander down to Oliver’s ass, her nose nuzzling into his chest in a way that told him that she may _finally_ be ready to move this party upstairs, when his phone started to vibrate from his back pocket.

“Ignore it,” Oliver told her, taking her lips again for a slow and lazy kiss.  To emphasize his intention to do just that.  Though in the back of his… _slightly_ inebriated mind, he knew he couldn’t ignore it.  He was the _mayor_ for fuck’s sake.

Apparently, Oliver’s even _drunker_ girlfriend agreed, because she reached into his back pocket and slipped out the phone, only taking her lips from his when it was out and then she turned her head to glance at it.

“It’s Thea.”

Oh good.  Not an emergency then.  “ _Ignore it_.”  Thea would understand.

But the look Felicity threw him said that she did _not_ agree, so, frowning, Oliver took the phone.

“Hey, Speedy.”  Oliver tried very hard not to sound petulant when he answered.  He wasn’t sure he succeeded.

Thea barely got a word out before Felicity was pulling out of his arms, spurring Oliver to protest, “Hey, where you going?”

Felicity threw a wicked grin over her shoulder, calling out, far louder than she needed to, “I’m going to make me a _Screaming Orgasm_.”

_“Was that Felicity?  Did she just say what I think she said?”_

Oliver blanched.  Lovely.  Okay, time to focus on his sister.  “I think we’d both be happier if you pretend you didn’t hear what you _thought_ you heard my girlfriend say.”

“Tell her you had _Sex with an Alligator_ ,” Felicity yelled.

“Fe-lici-ity!”

Thea’s laughter bubbled out over the phone.  “ _What on_ Earth _is going on over there?”_

Giving up, Oliver walked onto the balcony, out of sight (and, hopefully, sound) of the kitchen.  “Felicity is trying her hand at Mixology.  That the art of—”

_“I know what Mixology is, Ollie.  I owned a bar, remember?”_

Oh yeah.  Oliver took a deep breath and looked out over the city.  The sun was just starting to set.  “So, how are you?  Everything okay?”  Hopefully, the answer was ‘yes.’  Because as much as he loved his sister, he hoped this would be a short conversation. 

_“Fine.  Weather’s nice.  Just calling to say ‘hello,’ I guess.”_

And as much as Oliver wanted to take her at her word…Thea sounded lonely.  He took a deep breath and fought the need to _fix it_ for her.  “You know you can come home anytime, right?  You don’t have to be ‘Speedy’.  We can reopen Verdant.  You can…go to college.  I’ll get you a job a City Hall.  Anything you want.”  He wasn’t trying to run her life, but he needed her to know that there were options.

“ _Thank you, Ollie.  I appreciate that, but…I got another lead on Roy, so_ …”

Ah.  That changed everything.  “Say no more.  I get it.  Is there anything we can do to help?”

Thea chuckled.  “ _It’s nice to hear you say ‘we’ again_.”  And Oliver flushed, because he hadn’t even realized he’d said that.  “ _And, actually, there was something I wanted to run by Felicity, but somehow, I don’t think now is the time_.”

“Honestly,” Oliver grimaced, chuckling softly as he peeked into the Loft for a glimpse of Felicity. “I don’t think she’d be much help right now.”

Thea’s laughter rang out again and Oliver smiled.  He loved hearing her laugh almost as much as he did Felicity.  “ _Oh,_ I _want to see drunk Felicity.  Why can’t_ I _see drunk Felicity?_ ”

“When you come home,” and Oliver hoped it would be soon, even better if it was with Roy in tow, “I’m sure she’ll be happy to show off her new Mixology skills.”  Then he imagined his sister drinking a _Royal Fuck_ or a _Leg Spreader_.  “You’ll need a different theme, though.”

“ _Theme_?”

“Never mind.”

The silence over the other side of the line told Oliver she was waiting for him to say more, but it just wasn’t going to happen.  Finally, Thea gave up and said, “ _You guys sound like you’re doing well_.”

Oliver sighed, feeling that dopey, stupid love-sick expression spread across his face again.  Thea couldn’t see it, so why fight it.  “Yeah.  Yeah, we are.”

“ _You’ve got that stupid Felicity-Smoak-is-my-Sun-and-Stars look, don’t you_?’

Dammit.  “Shut up.”

Again with the laughter.  Oliver liked it a little less this time.

“ _Just_ swear _that you won’t get married without me_.”

Oliver rolled his eyes.  “I swear.”

“ _I mean it.  I can hear you rolling your eyes at me.  You get the urge to elope, you call me.  I’ll meet you_ —”

“ _Speedy_.  Not gonna happen.  We’re doing it right this time.  One step at a time.”  One _careful_ step at a time. 

_“Ollie…”_ Thea paused, seeming to search for words, _“you know…anyway that you do it will be right.  Because it’s you and Felicity_.”

Oliver’s breath hissed and his eyes burned.  He wished…he wished he could believe her.  But he’d come too close to losing Felicity to take anything for granted this time around. “Thanks, Speedy.”

“ _Hey, ask Felicity to call me in the morning about the Roy lead thingy, kay?  After she’s slept off her hangover_?”

Chuckling, Oliver shook his head again.  He _really_ hoped it wasn’t going to be as bad as all that.  “Will do.” 

As he hung up, he slid open the balcony door with a smile on his face and made his way to the kitchen, looking forward to discovering what sort of concoction Felicity managed to create this time.  He was thinking he’d maybe ask for a _Sit on My Face_.  Then, possibly, ask her if she wanted a demonstration.

But Felicity wasn’t there.  Though the _Sex with an Alligator_ was suspiciously empty.

“Felicity?” 

She didn’t answer, but Oliver found her seconds later, sprawled out of the couch, curled around Locksley.  Sound asleep.

Damn. 

Oliver couldn’t even be disappointed, they both looked so friggen cute.  Besides, he got to be there when Felicity woke up.  And the time after that as well.

“Locksley, off,” Oliver said in a firm whisper, and to his credit, the puppy obeyed immediately, even wagging his tail as he did so.  “I’m not giving you a treat,” he told the dog.  “You shouldn’t have been on the couch in the first place.”

Turning to Felicity, Oliver slipped his arms between her and couch and lifted her into his arms.  Luckily, he _was_ sober enough carry her, after all.  He only got an incomprehensible murmur from her before she snuggled into his chest with a soft snore. 

Once he got her to her… _their_ bedroom, ( _damn_ that sounded good) he striped her down to her panties and covered her up with the blanket.  Hands on his hips, Oliver stared down at his beautiful girl and shook his head.  Now what?  It was barely half past seven.  The sun hadn’t even set.

He turned to Locksley, standing loyally next to him.  They could be back by the time she woke up and a little exercise would clear the alcohol faster.  They had all the time in the world.

“Come on, Locksley, how about you go on a pizza run with Daddy?”

 

 

***   ***    ***    ***   ***   ***   ***

 

 

**Leg Spreader**

1 1⁄4 oz. Midori melon liqueur

1 1⁄4 oz. Malibu rum

6 oz. pineapple juice

2 dashes 7-up

Pour everything on ice, Stir enjoy.

 

**Wyoming Leg Spreader**

2 oz. Coke

1 oz. Grain Alcohol

2 oz. Raspberry Liqueur

Pour everything on ice, Stir.

 

**Slow Comfortable Screw**

1 oz. sloe gin

1/2 oz. Southern Comfort® peach liqueur

orange juice

 

**Royal Fuck**

2 parts Crown Royal® Canadian whisky

1-part Sour Apple Pucker

1-part Cranberry Juice

 

**Three-Legged Monkey**

1 oz. Crown Royal® Canadian whisky

1 oz. amaretto almond liqueur

1 oz. pineapple juice

 

**Pop My Cherry**

1/2 oz. cherry vodka

1/4 oz. triple sec

1/4 oz. orange juice

 

**Liquid Viagra**

I gotta recommend against this one, over 21 or not.  It’s just a health hazard

1 shot Jägermeister® herbal liqueur

1/3 can Red Bull® energy drink

 

**1-900-FUK-MEUP**

1/2 oz. Absolut Kurant

1/4 oz. Grand Marnier

1/4 oz. Chambord

1/4 oz. Midori Melon Liqueur

1/4 oz. Malibu Coconut Rum

1/4 oz. Amaretto

1/2 oz. Cranberry Juice

1/4 oz. Pineapple Juice

Shake ingredients in a glass filled with ice cubes.

Strain and serve in a Whiskey Sour Glass.

 

**Fuzzy navel**

1-part peach schnapps

1-part orange juice

 

**Sex with an Alligator**

1/2 oz. raspberry liqueur

1 oz. melon liqueur

2 oz. sweet & sour mix

1/2 oz. Jägermeister

Pour the melon liqueur and sweet and sour mix into a shaker.

Fill with ice, shake, and strain into a chilled martini glass.

Then, pour some raspberry liqueur and top it off with Jägermeister.

 

**Buttery Nipple**

1 oz. DeKuyper® Buttershots liqueur

1/2 oz. Irish cream

 

**Slippery nipples**

1/2 oz. Bailey’s® Irish cream

1/2 oz. butterscotch schnapps

 

**Sex Machine**

1.5 oz. Coffee Liqueur

1.5 oz. Irish Cream

 

**Screaming Orgasm**

1 oz. vodka

1 1/2 oz. Bailey’s® Irish cream

1/2 oz. Kahlua® coffee liqueur

 

**Sit on My Face**

1/3 oz. Kahlua® coffee liqueur

1/3 oz. Frangelico® hazelnut liqueur

1/3 oz. Bailey’s® Irish cream

 

**Blowjob**

1/4 oz. Bailey’s® Irish cream

1/2 oz. amaretto almond liqueur

 

**Deep Throat**

1/2 oz. Bailey’s® Irish cream

1/2 oz. Kahlua® coffee liqueur

1/2 oz. whipped cream

 

**Cock Sucking Cowboy**

Two parts butterscotch Schnapps

One part Baileys

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot of fun to write, for a lot of reasons.  When I first wrote it, I thought it would be fine that I had never tried most of the drinks found here.  But as I wrote, I decided it just wasn't good writing to not do the proper research.  So I bought out the liqueur store, and while my kids were in “grandma camp,” my husband and I slowly tried almost every drink here.  
> 
> I've written reviews for them and will post them tonight on Tumblr, if you want to know what to try.  (Off the top of my head, I recommend the _Leg Spreader_ , the _Sex With an Alligator_ and the _Cock Sucking Cowboy_ ).  Let me know if you give any a try or send me a picture!
> 
> We’re almost done with this series.  Only one more chapter left.  Next Thursday will be _Date 72: Tequila Take 2_.  It starts off more serious and emotional than this chapter and then the last half to two thirds is unadulterated smut.  :-D.  It is veeeery long.  Like 30 pages, 12000 words long.  It’s been a bitch to edit (and I’m still tinkering with the end).  It will feature a scene that Olicity fans having been craving since season 1.  Let's hope I do it justice (and it makes sense).
> 
> After that, I will be releasing a “fall season” of _Another Kind of Island_ starting October 9 and posting weekly on Sundays.  Stay tuned to Tumblr for updates on that front.
> 
> Thank you to all the lovely reviewers!  Thank you to **Rayna** for the beautiful cover art!  Thank you to **ireland1733** for the awesome chapter art, which she never seems to think is good enough and gets better with every chapter!   And finally to **Fairytalehearts** for her fantastic beta work!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Emmy
> 
> http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/
> 
>  


	5. Date 72: Tequila, Take Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated “E.” Warnings for sexual content, inappropriate behavior in a super hero bunker, and excessively inappropriate use of the Salmon Ladder. Completely and totally divulges from any rumors of Season 5 of Arrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is.  The last chapter.  The full circle.  A lot of work went into this one and it is one of those posts that just feels a like bit _more_.  I really really hope you enjoy it!

****  
_October 7, 2016_  


Felicity thought she would have been less nervous the second time around. 

Guess not.

_Well_ , maybe that wasn’t fair.  The first time, Felicity had been more than _nervous_.  She had been kind of…terrified.  And conflicted.  _Very_ conflicted.  Which was certainly different from how she felt now.   She couldn’t be further from conflicted.  In fact, she was totally completely certain.  Just, also…horrifically nervous.

Not _terrified,_ per se.  No.  Excited and nervous.  That was it.  Felicity was just _excited and nervous_ …to the point where she was afraid that she might vomit, which was not at all sexy and had the potential to ruin everything…

Okay, Felicity really needed to remember that it was all going to be okay.  And she was sure that the nausea would go away _anytime_ now.  Surely, the stomach butterflies on steroids wouldn’t last long after Oliver arrived.  Right?  Maybe Mexican wasn’t the best choice.

But it _had_ to be Mexican.  And, this time, the food was laid out on real plates, on top of a soft romantic picnic blanket that Felicity had carefully spread out over the work-out mats. 

Their, now, well-used Green Arrow shot glasses were next to a bottle of Patron Resposada Tequila (the guy from the liquor store had recognized Felicity from TV and refused to let her leave with Jose Cuervo this time), a bowl of lemon wedges (in a ceramic bowl, not plastic), and a shaker of salt.  It was all a lot classier than when she had tried this four months ago.

Felicity patted her jean pocket.  She was ready to go.

As long as she didn’t throw up.

Okay…stop!  There was _nothing_ to be nervous about.  One got nervous if something could go wrong.  And _nothing_ was going to go wrong.  What could go wrong?  It didn’t even have to go _perfectly_.  It just had to go… _well_.  And Felicity really couldn’t imagine a realistic scenario where it wouldn’t go _well_.  Unless, of course, they were attacked…

Oh, shut _up_!  Stupid brain!  Stupid, stupid brain!  Felicity refused to even contemplate that scenario.  Nope.  No—

“ _Felicity_?”

She honest-to-God jumped when she heard Oliver call her over the intercom, her hand flying up to cover her heart.  Felicity really needed to pull herself together. 

Dashing over to the intercom, Felicity jammed the button far harder than was necessary and said in a forced calm voice, “I’m in the workout area.” 

“ _Hmmm_ ,” Oliver hummed, a teasing note already apparent in his voice.  “ _Do I get to watch you do Pilates again_ …”

Felicity laughed.  She was right, all she needed was Oliver’s voice and her nerves already started to settle.  “Oliver, I don’t do Pilates on Friday nights.  I’m not an exercise junkie, unlike some people I know.”

“ _So…for pleasure then_?” Oliver asked, ignoring her dig and going for a leer instead.  How he managed to do that over the intercom, Felicity would never know.  But it made her smile so she was grateful for it.

“Why don’t you get your attractive butt down here and find out?”  Felicity was kind of proud of how confident her voice sounded.  Especially when she was still freaking out, just a little, on the inside.

“ _Yes, ma’am_.”  Oliver sounded like he had never been so happy to obey an order.  “ _Is this a Locksley friendly event?”_

Felicity glanced at the food laid out on the mat.  “Decidedly not.  Besides, I thought his job was to guard the elevator?”  That way she didn’t have to worry so much about an attack, the kind that had been mercifully rare this summer, but tended to show up to ruin so many of their important events.

“ _You’re the boss_.”

As if.

Turning away from the intercom and back to her picnic, Felicity told herself that she would _not_ wring her hands like a Nervous Nelly.  Even if her body itched to move.  To do _something_.  Everything was laid out and ready to go, so...hmmm.  Water?  They didn’t have water.  Didn’t want to get dehydrated.  She dashed over to the nearby kitchen, relieved to be able to expel some energy, and grabbed a bottle just as Oliver appeared.

“Hi.” 

Oliver looked positively delectable.  Shrugging out of his brown leather jacket, he tossed it onto his weights, leaving him in a simple blue t-shirt and jeans.  He was smiling a warm, welcoming smile, looking completely relaxed.  So different from four months prior when Felicity had laid out the identical meal (if with less expensive tequila). 

A lot had happened in four months.  And, also, very little if one compared it to the four months prior to that.  Because, really, most of what had happen was rather normal.  Just two people working hard, at time consuming and rather important jobs, living together, bickering about who drank the last of the milk and who fed the dog.  Oh and occasionally keeping the street free of crime at night.

They both knew that things wouldn’t stay this calm.  They never did.  There was always another big bad around the corner.  But, maybe, Oliver and Felicity had finally learned to cherish these breaks when things were just…ordinary. 

Because it was the ordinary parts of their lives that put that smile on Oliver’s face and Felicity prayed that they would always have at least a little bit of ordinary in their lives to ground them.

“Is this a special occasion?”  Oliver asked, pulling off his boots before he stepped onto the mat.  “Not that there needs to be.  I’m very happy to celebrate Friday.”

“Date 72 isn’t a milestone enough for you?” Felicity teased, managing what probably passed as a saunter as she approached Oliver and tilted her head up for a kiss.

“Why, Felicity Smoak?” Oliver breathed, grabbing her waist and jerking her forward so she collided with his chest.  This was _so_ much better than four months ago.  “Have _you_ been counting?”

Resting her hands on Oliver’s chest, Felicity shrugged. “It’s hard not to when my boyfriend obsess—”

Oliver cut her off with his kiss, his lips slanting over hers and opening to explore her mouth quite thoroughly.  Far more than a hello required.  Felicity’s eyes slipped shut and she focused on the warm, wet slide of his tongue and the familiar tickle of scruff against her face.  She could no longer imagine kissing without it.  It had become an essential part of the experience.

When Oliver lifted his lips from hers, it was to rest his forehead against Felicity’s, his eyes slipping closed.  He was at peace and it was beautiful.  She slid her hand up the back of his soft t-shirt to rest on the warm supple skin of his back and breathed him in.  She wanted to savor every quiet second.  Store them up for whatever trails were bound to be coming.

“Actually, it _is_ a special day,” Felicity whispered after a moment.

“Is it?”  Oliver lifted his head, blue eyes searching her face.  Felicity could tell the exact moment when he figured it out.  “It’s the anniversary of the day we returned to Star City.”

“Mmmhmm.”  Oliver was far quicker than anyone gave him credit for.

Oliver chuckled.  “It’s been quite the year.” But then his smile faltered and his eyes wandered.  His hands tightened on her waist and Felicity could actually _feel_ his thoughts drift to dark ugly places. 

Hugging him tight, Felicity said, “It’s been a long, terrible, _wonderful_ year.”

Felicity was rewarded by a small huff of a laugh and a kiss to her forehead.  “That it has.”  Oliver wrapped his arms more fully around her, almost as if that would keep her safe in the year to come.  Or, maybe, it was the demons of the past he wanted to drive off.  “But we’re together.”

Leaning back in his arms, Felicity purposely gave Oliver her brightest smile.  “We started the year together and we’re ending it together.  And _I_ think we’re a hell of a lot stronger for the journey.”

His lips stretched upward.  “Absolutely,” Oliver said with reverence as his thumb reached out to brush over her cheek.  “We’ve come full circle.”

Oliver had no idea how right he was.

“But we ended up in a better place.”  Felicity took both of Oliver’s hands and pulled him over to the mat.  “With better tequila.”

“I see that.” Oliver looked around at the meal with a grin.  “I also see that you decided to repeat Date #1 and not the soufflé disaster of _last_ October 7 th.”

“The soufflés were _far_ from a disaster.  That was a wonderful night, even if we were interrupted.”  Felicity pulled Oliver down to sit with her.  “But as well as Date #1 went… the tequila had _so much_ more potential.”

Oliver’s eyes flashed with interest.  “That so?”

“Let’s just say, I don’t have any intention of licking salt of my _own_ skin tonight.”

Throwing back his head, Oliver laughed, loud and rich.  “Well, this sure beats any anniversary I’ve ever had.”

“Of course,” Felicity grinned, feeling the happiness bubble up inside of her.  “This is the first one you’ve celebrated with _me_.”

“And the only one that matters,” Oliver murmured, leaning in and giving her a soft kiss on the lips.

They ate first, because Felicity had laid it all out so nicely and who knew when, or if, they would get to it if they _started_ with the tequila.  But, instead of sitting carefully apart as they did on Date #1, the tension so thick that it could be cut with a knife, Oliver and Felicity sat relaxed and content with their legs tangled together, pressed as closely as they could manage and still eat. 

There was still sexual tension in the air, but while months ago it had been almost painful, it was… _pleasant_ now.  A promise.  One that most certainly would be filled.  It was a heated anticipation and it was delicious.

Yet, as they talked about everything and nothing, the anxiety that had initially fled as soon as Oliver stepped into the room crept up again.  Felicity found that, just like four months ago, she was having difficulty focusing on his words.  The spicy food was starting to taste a lot like cardboard and her fingers drummed a nervous rhythm on the blanket.

“Felicity?”

“Hmmm?”  Crap.  He’d noticed.  And Felicity had no idea _what_ Oliver said in the seconds before he called her name.

Oliver picked up her fidgety hand and held it in his.  “Are you okay?”

Well, at least Oliver hadn’t asked her about what they…well, _he_ was talking about.  Felicity forced a smile and shook her head.  “No, I’m just…really excited to try the tequila.  I’ve never had Patron before.”  And it was true enough, though the brand of tequila was the least of it.

The grin that spread across Oliver’s face was almost predatory.  “Then, by all means…”  He popped the last of his burrito into his mouth and started to push the rest of the food aside, stacking it on the edge of the mat with an expediency that had Felicity giggling.  And she hadn’t even had her first shot.  She wondered if it was a Pavlovian response to the look on his face.

When Oliver was done cleaning up (she should probably have helped, but he did it so fast and her mind was…elsewhere), Felicity found them sitting cross-legged across from each other, the Green Arrow shot glasses that she’d bought sitting in the diamond created between their pressed together knees and she had such a strong sense of déjà vu…

But Felicity didn’t have time to contemplate it further.  Oliver twisted around to grab the tequila and this was her chance.  She snatched her prize from her pocket and dropped it into his glass before he could notice.

Felicity thought, maybe, she should say something to distract him...because he was _Oliver_ and impossible to surprise, but the words were stuck in her throat.  Her heart started beating at an alarming speed and her mouth was suddenly dry.  But he hadn’t noticed.  She couldn’t understand how he hadn’t noticed.  He noticed _everything_.  Especially when it came to her.

But, miraculously, she’d somehow managed to out stealth him.  For _once_.  And Oliver started to pour the tequila and Felicity was forced to consider the possibility that he actually _wouldn’t_ notice.  At all.  _Then_ what would she do?

Oh dear _God_.  This was going to be one of those horrible straight people catastrophes that Paul talked about.  This was _so_ stupid.  What had Felicity been _thinking_?  This was a _choking_ hazard.  This was—

“ _Felicity_?  What is this?”

Oliver’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but it rang out in the quiet room.  He was holding up his shot glass.  Sans tequila.  (Thank God, because Felicity really didn’t want it to be sticky).  And, Oliver, he was staring in wide-eyed shock at the platinum wedding band she’d slipped inside the glass.

Felicity had had it made special with a ring of dark green jade in the center.  It was meant to be both a wedding band and an…engagement band?  Though, she supposed he could have a second ring if he wanted.  It wasn’t as if there was a precedent for such things. 

Men really should have engagement rings as well.  It was wrong on so many levels that they didn’t and it made a woman proposing _so much_ more complicated.  And—

“Felicity?” 

This time his voice was choked and Felicity realized that she’d…um…forgotten to speak.  She really needed to say something, because she was kind of afraid Oliver was going to have an aneurism if she didn’t.  But, _God_ , when had talking gotten so hard?

“So…it’s a…um…ring.”  Had Felicity ever said something so inane and obvious?  _Ever_ in her life?  Where were her trademark babbles when she needed them?

Oliver carefully lifted out the ring…maybe he’d given up on Felicity giving him any answers…and held it in front of him between his thumb and forefinger, staring at it like he couldn’t believe it was real.

“It’s an engagement ring,” Felicity said more firmly.  And kind of quickly, because she was afraid that if she hesitated the words would get stuck again and nothing would come out.  “For men.”  And Oliver’s eyes jerked to hers, because, yeah, it was…unusual.  “Which is something that I _might_ have made up, because men should have…” Okay, now was not the time to go down that angry rant road.

Felicity took a deep breath and forced herself to keep talking. “I decided…”   Why did her lips have to be so dry? It made talking so much harder.  “I _decided_ that it was my turn to ask _you_ to marry _me_.”  Because she’d gotten two, maybe three proposals, depending on how one looked at it.  Not to mention, possibly the most beautiful vows ever written, so it was _beyond_ her turn.

“ _Felicity_ …” 

That seemed to be the only thing Oliver could say and Felicity could certainly relate.  She was discovering that talking was the hardest when it mattered most.  He reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing hard.  She clutched it back like a lifeline and it didn’t hurt, so….

It was time…time to say what she had to say.  And Felicity had _a lot_ to say.  She just needed to start.  “I know that the next words out of your mouth are going to be to ask me if it’s too soon…”

Oliver laughed at that, probably because they both knew it was true.  His laugh was watery, but so was Felicity’s voice so that was okay. 

“And I…the answer is…no, I don’t think it is.” Keep going, Smoak.  Keep going.  “Because it’s been a _long_ year and if I’ve learned anything it’s…it’s that we belong _together_.  Even if we aren’t perfectly baked and mature and _absolutely_ ready, but, maybe, we never will be, because nothing’s perfect, but together…I think that together we are _better_.”

“Oh Felicity.  God, I—”

“Shhh.”  Felicity laid a finger on his lips, only realizing she was crying when she tasted her own tears.  “I’m not done.  Actually, I haven’t even gotten to the part I rehearsed yet.”

Oliver chuckled against her finger and nodded, his eyes teary as well, and he pressed a kiss to her finger before she moved both of her hands to tangle with his, the ring caught between them. 

“So,” Felicity began with a sniffle and a shaky smile.  “Um…remember when you proposed to me in December?” Oliver nodded, even though it was totally rhetorical.  Because, _of course_ , he remembered.  “You said I was the light that lit your way.  And, I think…I think that since then, I lost some of that… _a lot_ of that light.”

Oliver opened his mouth to protest and Felicity could see in his eyes that he was distraught by the mere insinuation, but she shushed him.  “Don’t shake your head.  Trust me, I was there, and with everything that happened, my light…it dimmed.   And… _but_ instead of getting lost, you took up that light yourself and I think, over time, you became the light that lit _my way_.”

“Felicity…” Oliver almost sobbed, his voice was like sandpaper, and it wasn’t clear if he was protesting or thanking her, but his fingers tightened around hers.

“It’s true and I think…I think that’s what a relationship is _really_ supposed to be.  Not one person leading or holding the other person up, but each taking turns being each other’s light when they need it the most.”

Taking a shaky breath, Felicity paused to gain some composure and Oliver choked out, “Is that the part you rehearsed?” 

Felicity nodded unevenly.  “Yes.”

“It was really good.”  Oliver’s eyes shined with emotion as he smiled at her.

And all the anxiety disappeared in a poof, leaving nothing but love and this incredible _connected_ feeling that was almost overwhelming in its intensity.  “It’s not over.”  Felicity was pretty sure there was more.  What was next?

Oliver’s smile widened.  “By all means, don’t let me interrupt.”

Right.  But this part was harder.  Felicity took a deep breath and searched for the words.   “Okay…so…I…the second time you put a ring on my finger, you said ‘for better or for worse.’  Only I didn’t realize how much worse it would get or…”  Her throat closed. God, this was so _hard_.  The tears started to really fall and Oliver reached to wipe them away.  “Or that _I_ would be the one to break that promise.”

“ _Felicity_ —”

“Shhh.  It’s true.  I, umm…” God, this was so difficult to admit.  “Maybe we weren’t ready yet, but…now…maybe I didn’t have faith, or maybe I lost it, but it’s back and…I have _faith_ that we will both make mistakes, but through it all, I have two truths that I will _never_ forget again:  You are a good man Oliver Queen.  And you love me.”

“With everything I have,” Oliver added when Felicity paused for a breath, his voice passionate to the point that it pushed a few more tears over her wet eyelashes.

Didn’t Felicity owe him just as much.  “And I _swear_ to you, from here on forward, I’ll _never_ forget that again.  And I _won’t_ leave.  For better or for worse.”  Well, maybe she should add… “That’s not an excuse to do something stupid.”

Oliver laughed, his voice thick.  “I won’t, I know—”

“Because I’m still going to get mad at you and I’ll yell at you and I might even make you sleep in Locksley’s bed, while he sleeps with me—”

Oliver’s laughter interrupted her this time.  “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“But…”  Felicity finally pulled one of her hands from the tangle that was their fingers to wipe her now ridiculously wet face.  “If you’ll marry me, I promise it will be for forever this time.”

Oliver’s face scrunched up and he swallowed with an audible gulp.  “Can I say yes now?”

It was Felicity’s turn to laugh.  “ _Please_.”

Felicity would swear Oliver had never quite _glowed_ with happiness like this before. “Yes!”  He grabbed her head and pulled her in for a hard kiss.  “Yes.”  Another kiss.  “God, I love you.”  And another.

Laughing through the onslaught, Felicity slipped the ring out of the glass.  “Now—”

“No, _wait_.”  Oliver pressed one more hard kiss to Felicity’s lips before jumping to his feet.  “Just _one_ second.”  He dashed from the room, leaving her feeling a little like she had emotional whip lash.  Even the air around her felt cooler without him there.

She had no idea where he was going…but Felicity trusted him.  Whatever it was, it was important to Oliver, so it was important to her.

And Felicity was able to use those few minutes to dry her eyes and even splash some water on her face as she tried to get control of her rampaging emotions.  It didn’t realty work, but she was _happy_.  Giddy even.  She was having trouble believing that they had actually gotten re-engaged and no one had shot at them.

Though, maybe, he’d been gone longer than he should…

“Oliver!”

“Coming,” he called back and Felicity sighed in insane, irrational relief collapsing back on her knees.  Why were their lives this crazy?

But then Oliver was back and he was holding something…he was holding _Felicity’s_ ring between his thumb and forefinger.

And all the effort to dry her tears was wasted, because her eyes filled right back up again.  Felicity hadn’t even realized how much she had missed that gorgeous ostentatious thing.  She bit her lip and smiled, her finger itching to have _her_ ring back where it belonged. 

Oliver blew out a breath, carefully kneeling in front of her.  “I was actually thinking I’d like to buy you a new one before I even considered proposing again…I mean, when I thought enough time had passed for… _anyway_ , I thought maybe this ring was cursed, since it was my mother’s and all, and her marriages weren’t the best.  I can still—”

“It’s not your mother’s ring anymore,” Felicity said firmly, swallowing the lump in her throat and holding out her hand firmly, palm down.  “It’s _mine_ now.”

A relieved grin just about bloomed across Oliver’s face as he took her hand, but then he hesitated.  “Wait…I, uh…I think I have a few things that I need to say first?” 

Oliver looked at her like it was a question and Felicity could only manage a nod.  Her throat had closed again and her eyes had teared up so much she could barely see. 

Swallowing, Oliver met her eyes, the ring perched on the end of her finger.  “First, I need to thank you for giving me a second chance.”  Felicity shook her head, opening her mouth to protest, but Oliver stopped her, “No.  I need to say this.  I don’t think I deserved it, I messed up so bad—”

Felicity had thought they were past this.  She had long ago forgiven him, now she needed him to forgive himself.  “You did… _do_ deserve it—”

“Shush, my turn,” Oliver reprimanded with a small smile.  “Before I slide this back where it belongs, I need to say I’m sorry and—”

“Oliver you’ve _said_ you’re sorry,” Felicity laughed (though it almost sounded like a sob), “like a dozen times.”

“And I’m going to keep saying it so you don’t forget.”  Oliver took a shaky breath.  “So _I_ don’t forget.  And I’m promising you here and now, no lies, so secrets—”

“Except the good kind,” Felicity interrupted, needing the inject a little lightness, because her heart was about to burst, “like surprises.”

Oliver chuckled, then kind of sniffed.  “Excepting surprises,” he agreed.  “And, I promise, to never willingly leave you alone, _especially_ not in a hospital or with doctors or with fathers…”

Felicity laughed out loud at that, blinking and swiping away tears.  Oliver might make guilt an art form, but he was also the _sweetest_ man.

“And to never give you a reason to take this off again,” Oliver swore, before, finally, _finally_ sliding the ring home.  

Blowing out a breath, Felicity held it up to the light.  God, it felt so good to have it back.  And they were going to have to cut it off her cold, dead hands if they ever wanted to get it off her again.

She laughed out loud, she was so happy, and then turned to Oliver.  “Your turn.  You seem to have forgotten, but this was _my_ proposal.”  Felicity snatched up the ring she had bought for him.

“By all means.” Oliver beamed, laughing and holding out his hand the way she had only seconds before.  This was the first time Felicity had gotten to do this and it felt like so much more than an engagement this time. 

“You know that if I wear this outside, everyone is going to say we eloped,” Oliver told her as it slid past his knuckle and settled where it belonged.  Felicity’s stomach _may_ have flipped a bit at his words.  Not in a bad way, though.  Oh no.

“Who cares?”  Felicity took Oliver’s hand, lacing their left hands together so their rings rested against each other.  God, this was so excessively romantic she didn’t know if she could handle it.  “It is rather sexist that only girls get engagement rings anyway,” she couldn’t resist adding.

“Well, I love it.”  Of course, he did.  _He_ was perfect.  Even when he was trying not to be.  Oliver just couldn’t help it.  “It’s perfect.”

Felicity laughed and he probably had no idea why, but the way she felt right now…it was _incredible_.  She lunged in for a kiss and wasn’t surprised at all when Oliver met her half-way.  He seemed to be able to read her mind lately.

Grinning so wide it almost hurt, Felicity announced, “And, now, we celebrate!”

“With tequila?”

“With tequila _body shots_!”

Cupping her cheeks, Oliver buzzed Felicity’s lips with a hard kiss.  “You have the best plans.”  But before she could preen, he added, “I have one condition: _no passing out_!”

Seriously!  Felicity had learned _that_ lesson the hard way.  “Trust me, nothing I have planned involves sleeping.”

“I’ve heard _that_ before,” Oliver drawled, throwing her a teasing look as he grabbed the tequila and pulled out the cork…this tequila had a _cork_!

“Hey!  I made that up to you!”  And she had.  When Oliver returned sweaty and delicious from his run.  In the shower.  _And_ the next morning.  God bless, Ibuprofen and hydration.

“That you did,” Oliver agreed, with a half-smile and a fond look. “But I’m implementing a 2:1 rule.  Two shots for me for every one of yours.”

That worked for her.  She hated when she was drunker than Oliver anyway.  “I accept those terms.”  It was an excellent plan, as a matter of fact.  Felicity reached for the hem of her shirt.

“Whoa!  What are you doing?”

Felicity froze, her shirt falling from her fingers, taken aback by Oliver’s reaction.  It had been a long time since he _hadn’t_ wanted her to strip.  “Uhhh…taking of my shirt.”  Cause…duh.  “For body shots.”  Hadn’t they agreed to this?

Oliver shook his head, mock despondent.  “Felicity, my love, body shots are like a good relationship.  They are all about the buildup.”

Felicity rolled her eyes.  “Oh, so you’re the expert now?”

“In relationships?  No.  In body shots?”  Oliver shrugged.  Then he gave her an arrogant wink that might have looked smarmy if he wasn’t so damn adorable.

Felicity shook her head, but couldn’t help but chuckle.  “Fine.  We’ll do it your way.”

“Thank you,” Oliver nodded, graciously.  “We’ll start with level 1, if you will.”  He poured the shots and Felicity rolled her eyes, because how could she not, it was so ridiculous.  But fun.  So fun.  Though, she was so high on life at the moment that _breathing_ was fun.

Oliver took Felicity’s left arm and ran his tongue delicately over the inside of her wrist.  He then draped her arm over her left thigh so the back of her hand rested on his knee.  He showered her inner arm with salt and placed a lemon wedge in her open palm. 

“Now,” Oliver presented his wrist, holding it up to Felicity’s lips, “lick.”  His voice was rough and his eyes looked almost navy in the dim light.  She did as she was instructed and he mirrored his arm with hers.  “Now, take your glass with your right hand.”

“I don’t remember body shots being this complicated.” Felicity didn’t know if she was complaining or not.  Nothing could bring her down at the moment, but she was awfully ready to be naked in his arms.

“We were already pretty drunk when we got to that point in Spain, so we may have skipped a few steps.  Get ready to lick my wrist, then twine our arms and drink.”

Felicity followed the instructions, because, well, _still fun_.   Even romantic, in a smoking hot sorta way.  They leaned over together and licked, taking much more time than they ever would have on their own skin.  When they sat back up, they linked elbows and threw back the shot.  Well, Oliver did, Felicity found it harder than it looked and spilled some of hers.  Also his arm was unfairly longer and his bicep distracting and she was already giggling so…

The tequila was liquid fire, but definitely tasted _so_ much better than any she’d had before.  Oliver pressed his lemon between Felicity’s lips before her head had cleared.  Then he bent over and snatched his wedge from her palm with his teeth, which was rather hot, actually. 

Felicity giggled as Oliver spit out his lemon, sending it flying off the side of the mat as she carefully dropped hers onto her palm.  “This tequila is a hell of a lot better than Jose Cuervo.  How did I not know this?”

Oliver shrugged.  “We’ll get some more so you can try it in your _Green Arrow_.  Though, some people would say it was sacrilege to use Patron in a mixed drink.”  He winked at her and poured another shot.  It seemed like tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights where he was constantly asking her to slow down with the drinking.

“Don’t mock my _Green Arrow_.  It’s my signature drink.”

“Oh. I’m not mocking it.  It’s delicious.”  Almost as if to demonstrate, Oliver leaned over and ran his tongue over Felicity’s lips.  “I _may_ be mocking how often you make it.”

“I’m working on my tolerance,” Felicity told him airily, not appreciating the comment.  “Someday, I might even catch up with you.”  Not only was that something that would _never_ happen.  It wasn’t something she would ever try for.

“Let’s _not_ make that a goal,” Oliver said, unknowingly echoing her thoughts.  “My turn.  Bite.”

“Wh—”

Oliver presented her with the lemon, peel side toward her and pressed it between her lips. She clamped her teeth around it, purely on instinct.  “ _This_ is body shots, sweetheart.  Tip your head.”  Gently, he cupped Felicity’s head and tilted it to the side so he could run his lips and tongue over her neck.

“Mmmm,” Felicity hummed behind the lemon as his mouth and scruff scrapped her skin.  She was wrong, the tequila wasn’t fire.  It was gasoline and his lips were the spark that ignited it. 

Oliver smiled smugly as he sprinkled on the salt.  “Ready…?” Then before Felicity could answer, his tongue was back on her skin and for far too short a time.  He threw back his head and swallowed…God, the line of his throat…so gorgeous.  

He leaned in, and though they had kissed a _thousand_ times, Felicity’s heart skipped a beat when he bit into the lemon held between her lips.  They let go at the same time and the rind fell between them.  Oliver’s lips still _right there_. 

“I like that,” Felicity breathed.  “Can we keep doing _that_?”

She could feel him chuckle as the air vibrated against her lips.  “Yeah.  We can.”  Then Oliver’s tongue swept out and into her mouth, tasting of salt and lemon and excellent tequila, all of which she was quickly getting addicted to, especially when it came with Oliver’s tongue.  Felicity sucked on it, making him moan.  Yup.  _Defiantly_ an addict now.

Felicity’s head was swimming by the time Oliver whispered against her lips, “ _Now,_ we take our shirts off.”

“Yay,” she whispered back, but before he could do anything about it, she pulled him back in and sucked on that delectable tongue again.  It was probably counterproductive, but whatever.  Felicity felt a rumble which was most likely Oliver laughing at her, but, again, _whatever_.

His hands slipped under her shirt and as he yanked it up, Felicity had to pull back, gasping, her arms flying into the air.  Oliver threw it away and reached for his own.

“No.  Mine,” Felicity protested, her hands already finding the warm skin under his t-shirt.   Her fingers ran over his gorgeous body, touching him far more than was necessary to undress him, and with a touch of extra possessiveness.  He was _hers_ now.   She pushed the shirt up and off with no little satisfaction. 

“You want to go next?” Oliver asked, smirking as her hands ran over his chest, tracing his tattoos, his scars, the ridges of his six pack...

“What?”  How the hell was Felicity supposed to concentrate with all _this_ in front of her?  “Oh yes.  My turn.  It’s _definitely_ my turn.”  As long as her turn involved licking Oliver all over.

Oliver chuckled as he poured, but Felicity saw no reason to wait, she just latched onto his collar bone and sucked.  His head fell back and his hand came up to cradle her crown.  She was already starting to feel like she’d had too much to drink and she’d barely done one whole shot.  She wondered if this stuff was stronger than Cuervo, though she doubted it. 

Something about that ring on his finger made him even more irresistible.  Felicity disengaged from Oliver’s skin and smiled giddily at the pretty red mark left behind.  She reached for the salt shaker, which luckily, _smartly,_ Oliver had placed in her hand, and sprinkled it on his skin.

He handed her the shot and placed the lemon in between his smiling lips.  Felicity was momentarily distracted by how Oliver seemed to be laid out for her like a delectable snack.  Her heart was racing.  This was only level 2?  She was going to combust before they finished.

He stared at her for a moment, effectively gagged with the lemon wedge, until Felicity finally shook herself and leaned forward to lick a long stripe of salt off his pink skin, cleaning it completely.  She wouldn’t want Oliver to have any uncomfortable salt on his skin.  It wouldn’t be polite.

Felicity took the shot and _wow_ that felt good.  This time, when she bit the lemon, she seriously resented that it was in the way of Oliver’s mouth.  She yanked it away from his lips with her teeth, spitting it out and pulling him back in for a deep, tongue tangling kiss.

Oliver wrapped an arm around her and pulled their chests flush, flesh against flesh and Felicity really didn’t know why she had thought they needed the tequila.  All the needed was _the sex_.  The engagement sex.  Hours and hours of _fabulous_ engagement sex.

_Wow_ , this time they were _actually_ going to get engagement sex.  And Felicity hoped sweet little seven month-old Locksley tore the throat out of anyone who dared to try to interrupt them.

“My turn.”

Felicity hadn’t even realized that their lips had disengaged, but the way Oliver said…no, _demanded_ it, well, how the hell could she argue?

“Sit back.” 

Felicity did as she was told.  Damn, Oliver was sexy when he was dominant.  He wasn’t even looking at her.  He was pouring the next shot, barking out orders and…

“Sit still.” 

And the next thing Felicity knew, Oliver had placed the shot in her bra.

“ _Oliver_ ,” Felicity laughed.  Not to _protest_.  She was just…surprised.  In a good way.  And the glass was kinda cold against her heated skin.  Which was kinda…ironically…hot.

Grinning wickedly, Oliver laved the top of her breasts with his tongue, taking his time.  The cool glass tormented Felicity the entire time as his scruff raised the temperature on her surrounding skin.  Her nipples hardened to tight sensitive little nubbins without so much as a brush against the satin on her bra.

He gave her the lemon rind to bite and lapped up all the salt, nuzzling her with his nose, teasing.  Until, _finally_ , he _carefully_ grabbed the shot glass with his lips and teeth.  Slowly, Oliver pulled it out of her bra, his nose pressed against her, and Felicity wondered if she’d hyperventilate, she was breathing so hard. 

Oliver threw back his head and drank, without so much as touching the glass with a finger.  It was _so_ fraking sexy…this _man_.

Felicity never _did_ get to see what happened to the glass because Oliver was lunging for her mouth and snatching the lemon from her teeth.  He shook his head like a wild animal, his expression feral, and sent the lemon flying.  She didn’t want to think about the places they’d be finding lemon rinds in the morning.  It was a good thing thinking was beyond her at the moment.

When Oliver claimed her mouth, again, it was just that…a claiming.  Possessive and aggressive and, this time, all Felicity could do, all she _wanted_ to do, was let Oliver have his way with her as he plundered her mouth.  She was only vaguely aware of him removing her bra.  Though, she imagined it went the way of the lemon rind.

Oliver cupped her breasts, kneading them, pressing them together.  His lips left hers, but not for a second did they leave Felicity’s body.  They trailed over her cheek and chin, down her neck to bathe her chest with passionate kisses.

“Hold them.”  It was an order.  And Oliver grabbed Felicity’s hands to show her exactly how he wanted it done, guiding her to cup and squeeze her breasts together. 

Felicity had to squeeze her thighs together as well, as a rush of sensation shot straight to her core, leaving her wet and sticky.  Oliver’s eyes were wild and his short hair standing on end.  _She_ did that.  Again, he placed the shot glass full of tequila between her breasts, only _this_ time the only thing that held it up was her flesh.

Her hips rocked involuntarily at the sensation.  Felicity’s arousal just kept ratcheting up up up.  When Oliver guided her fingers to pinch her nipples between her fingers, she groaned, her head fell back and her hips bucked, causing the tequila glass to jolt and spill over her chest.

Oliver chuckled, seemingly pleased with the results.  He dipped his head to lick it away, following one drop until he found her nipple, guiding her to squeeze it between her fingers as he flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue.  All Felicity could do was moan uncontrollably as she struggled not to move, knowing the tequila would spill everywhere and...that struggle to stay still just made it hotter, made the arousal vibrate more strongly through her tense muscles.

Even the sensation of the fine salt raining down on her felt like a shower of sensation.  Then Oliver’s tongue was on her again and he was taking too much care.  Being _too_ slow, _too_ gentle. Felicity couldn’t stand it much longer…but finally his lips grabbed the shot and swallowed it down.

Felicity had forgotten about the lemon until Oliver pulled her hands away from her breasts and crushed the wedge in his fist, showering a nipple with the sharp, stinging juice.  It was only a fraction of a second later that his lips followed, soothing, sucking the nipple into his mouth with long sure strokes, pressing it to the roof of his mouth.  Felicity would swear she was a second away from coming right there, from that alone.

Then, suddenly, Oliver was gone.  Felicity blinked open her eyes to see him staring at her, panting, eyes wide and dilated and so so blue.

“Your turn,” Oliver murmured and even the timbre of his voice caused prickles of sensation, torturing Felicity’s poor overstimulated body.

“What’s next?”  Felicity was surprised she was able to speak.  She was barely able to breathe.

“The navel.  I think.”  Oliver looked as out of it as Felicity felt.  _Good_.  She liked when they were on the same page.

She grinned, nodding.  She just needed to calm down a bit first.  Felicity grabbed a water bottle and instructed, “Lay down.”  It was her turn to be in charge.

Felicity drank the water with big gulps, then poured some on her overheated neck and chest for good measure.

“ _Fuck_ , Felicity!”  Oliver was up on one elbow, the rest of him sprawled across the mat, his mouth hanging open.

Felicity grinned wider.  “Want some?”

“Yeah.”  And the way Oliver nodded, all frantic-like…Felicity had to wonder what he was thinking about, because dollars to donuts it wasn’t water.

With a gentle shove, Oliver fell back.  Felicity filled her mouth with the cold liquid and leaned over his prone body, pouring the water directly between his open lips, chasing the droplets with her tongue. 

“More?”

Swallowing, Oliver shook his head.  “I’m good.” 

But the way his chest was heaving told a different story. Felicity splayed her hands over his torso, stroking, trying to sooth…Oliver just felt so good.  She wanted to explore all of him.  She ran her hand down his abs and the bulge in his jeans jumped.  It was irresistible.  So she didn’t bother resisting.  She just swept her hand over it and squeezed.

Oliver hissed.  “ _Fe-li-ci-ty…”_   It came out as a warning.  His head tipped back and his muscles coiled.

Felicity ignored him.  Well, she ignored the _warning_ , instead choosing to focus on undoing the buttons of Oliver’s fly.  Poor baby, he needed some room to breathe.  As soon as she pealed the fabric away, his cock just sort of jumped toward her.

“ _Pacing_ , Felicity,” Oliver warned again, his eyes tightly shut and his fists clenched.  “We’re on navels.”

Leaning over, Felicity bit his abs in punishment.  It was her turn to be in charge, dammit!  Oliver needed to understand how this worked.  Respect it, at the very least.  He was really terrible at being submissive.

Still, Felicity decided to leave his cock alone.  For now.  The game was the game.  Rushing wasn’t in the spirit of things. 

Instead, Felicity ran her mouth back up to his chest.  Oliver’s hands threaded into her hair and when she peeked up at him, his head was thrown back and his eyes still closed.  The feeling of power was incredible and when she licked his nipple and his whole body…spasmed, well, maybe there _was_ something to this pacing thing.

Gathering her salt and lemon, Felicity circled Oliver’s navel with her tongue, pouring the salt around it, then placing the lemon wedge carefully below his belly button along his trail to heaven, some of the scant body hair the man had. 

Felicity grabbed the Patron and paused, looking at the shot glass and considering.  When Oliver saw her intent, he warned, “You’re going to really taste it that way.”  But he didn’t move to stop her.

Giving him her best cat-like grin, Felicity shrugged.  “I’m developing a taste for it.”  Especially mixed with the taste of Oliver’s skin.  She went ahead and poured the Patron directly into Oliver’s navel, making him gasp and shiver.

Now he really _was_ laid out like dinner.

Felicity made quick work of the salt, before closing her mouth over Oliver’s belly button and sucking.   It wasn’t easy to keep contact the way he grunted and jerked—his navel was rather sensitive, but she managed, twirling her tongue inside to get every last drop.

Oliver was right, the taste was stronger, even if less tequila fit in there than in the glass.  But it was delicious in a strong, stringent sort of way.  Felicity was glad she followed the liquor guy’s recommendations and got the 100% agave blah blah blah.

Her tongue flicked out to get the last drops, Oliver groans almost continuous now.  Was this how he usually felt?  Powerful.  Full of pride and satisfaction at being able to make someone so in control lose it.  Felicity was usually the one going mindless with pleasure.  She liked having the tables turned. 

She licked her way to the lemon and bit, hard.  The juice went spurting out and Felicity lapped it up, enjoying the sour tang. 

Felicity was really just getting started when Oliver sat up abruptly.  “My turn,” he growled.  

Apparently, Oliver was done having the tables turned.   He pushed her onto her back and if Felicity (initially) wanted to protest, all coherent thoughts flitted away when he said, “Do you gave any idea how gorgeous you are right now?  How sexy?”

Felicity laughed breathlessly and stretched out on the mat.  As she watched the way Oliver’s eyes followed her movements, she realized there was power in this too.  “I hadn’t really thought about it.  I was too focused on—ahh ha…”

Tequila splashed over Felicity’s breasts and belly, followed by Oliver’s lips and tongue.

Oliver was, evidently, done with the salt, done with any semblance of the ritual, beyond bathing her body with tequila and lemon juice and following it with his tongue.  Felicity wondered how the liquor store guy would react if he knew what they were doing with his precious Patron.

He made it to her navel, after getting very, _very_ distracted, once again, by her nipples, and drank from her belly button twice.  Oliver was going for a third when Felicity stopped him.  Her body was humming and her skin was tingling and she was very ready for _her_ turn.

“Jeans off,” Felicity demanded, though she wasn’t sure how stern it sounded, since it came out as a breathless gasp.

“I’ll show you mine, if you’ll show me yours.”  And when Oliver grinned at her like that, all boyish and happy, Felicity would do just about anything he asked.

She jumped to her feet, feeling a whole hell of a lot more aroused than drunk.  Oliver followed, his eyes holding hers as they smiled at each other and shimmied out of their jeans.  But when Oliver’s hands went to his boxers, Felicity stopped him.

“Leave those.  Sit.”  It was Felicity’s turn and they both knew it.  And she knew exactly what she wanted to do this time.  Oliver obeyed with a satisfying amount of enthusiasm.  “Sit up, but lean back on your arms.”

“What are you up to?”  Oliver asked with a grin as he followed her direction.

The corner of Felicity’s lips quirked up as she poured another shot into the glass.  This had better be a good one, since it would likely be her last.  She’d learned her limits the hard way this summer and she was going to have to make this one count.

Giving Oliver the wickedest grin she could…it was amazing how much less awkward she felt after a little tequila.  The rings on their fingers didn’t hurt either.  Just the weight of the diamond back on her hand filled her with confidence.  Felicity pulled back the elastic of his boxer-briefs, just enough so that his cock had room enough to spring forward and peek his head out to play.

“ _Felicity_ ,” Oliver hissed, but this time she didn’t think it was a warning, more a groan of anticipation. 

Regardless, Felicity focused on her mission, carefully placing the glass next to the head of his cock, giving him a moment to get adjusted to the cold glass against his hot skin before carefully trapping both glass and cock head in the elastic.

“I’m not…” Oliver’s voice was low and husky as he panted, “I’m not sure if the elastic is going to hold that.”

“That so?”  Felicity smirked, raising an eyebrow, though she was pretty certain he was referring to the full glass, not to his rebellious penis.  She wrapped a hand around Oliver’s knee, urging it up to give the glass extra stability.

Oliver allowed her to move and sculpt his body with an admirable amount of trust.  Felicity watched his abdominal muscles contract and ripple as she did so.  His head was thrown back and he was watching her from half closed eyes as he requested, “Just no lemon juice on the cock, please.”

So very polite.  It made Felicity giggle.  “Salt okay?”

“Sure.”  When Oliver answered it was a mere breath of a word.

Felicity had had enough conversation.  She let her mouth fall over the head of his cock and she sucked it like a lollypop.  Oliver’s hips flew off the floor and he gasped, “ _Fuuck_ …”

It also made the tequila spill and Felicity placed a hand on his abs to steady him.  “Careful,” Felicity warned.  But, damn, she enjoyed causing a crack in his unbreakable restraint.  She added a nip to Oliver’s pelvic bone in warning, just because, before her head fell back to its pleasurable task of first lapping up the spilled tequila, then sucking on his cockhead.

“Felicity, you need…” Oliver grunted and she could feel his muscles spasm with the effort it took to stay still.  “Don’t get too carried away.”

Grabbing a lemon wedge…Felicity hadn’t known what to do with it, but now she had the perfect place for it.  She shoved it into Oliver’s open lips. “Shush up, you.  _My_ turn.”

Oliver half chuckled/half groaned around the citrus fruit as Felicity went back to the task at hand, circling the head of his cock with her tongue, wetting every inch before sprinkling on salt.  Then, watching him from beneath her lashes, she removed every last grain of salt. 

When he looked like he was about to explode, Felicity let him go and closed her lips over the shot glass, feeling Oliver’s cock twitch and beg for attention against her cheek as she pulled out the glass and threw back what was left of the tequila.

Felicity should have gone for the lemon then, but she really wasn’t ready for her turn to be over.  She dove for Oliver’s cock again, closing her lips over him and pushing down, shoving his boxers out of the way with her lips.  His cock was irresistible, which was ridiculous and completely unfair, that even _this_ part of him was so unbearably attractive.  His engagement ring should have been a cock ring.  How fracken gorgeous would that have been?

Oliver grunted from behind the lemon, jerking her from her head rambles.  It sounded like he was trying to say her name, but she couldn’t tell.  Felicity ignored him for as long as she could.  Until he decided he was _done_ letting her be in charge. 

Before Felicity knew what was happening, she was on her back, Oliver on top of her, biting the lemon so that the juice trickled down into her mouth.  Then he spat it away to join the growing pile of rinds and settled over her to chase the sour juice between her lips.

Felicity got lost, for a moment, in the deep strokes of his tongue, the fire of the tequila in her veins and the hard cock pressed against her belly.  She shifted, opening her legs, relishing the way Oliver’s body notched into hers, ready for him to slip right in, for him to come home.

“Your turn lasted too long,” Oliver murmured against her lips, their alcohol leaden breath mixing in the scant space between them.

“Nuh uh,” Felicity protested, considering pointing out how long Oliver’s last turn was, but she was too preoccupied chasing his lips with hers and pressing up against his cock.

“My turn now,” Oliver growled and the sound went straight to her clit and it pulsed, vibrating as if it were directly against the sensitive bundle of flesh. 

Felicity didn’t have time to protest any further, she was having trouble catching her breath as Oliver reared back, his thumbs hooking into her panties and yanking them free, sending them flying.  It really wasn’t fair.  How were they supposed to fairly take turns when he was so fucking hot like this?

“Press your thighs together and cross them at the ankles.”

Okay…wait, what?  Oliver’s hotness was melting Felicity’s brain.  “What?”

“You heard me.”

Wow.  Oliver was _done_ playing.  But it was exciting as frak and Felicity had no doubt that she was going to love whatever he had in mind so…why was she hesitating? 

She did as she was told and Oliver grabbed the now half empty bottle of tequila (which would be concerning if she didn’t know how much was on the mat and soaked up in their clothes.  God, she hoped this room forever smelled like expensive tequila) and poured it directly between Felicity’s legs, into the cup created by her thighs.

Holy… _Christ_.  Jesus wasn’t her God, but it seemed appropriate. 

Oliver smiled this crazy sexy drunk smile.  “The Japanese call this wakamezake **.** Seaweed sake.”

Felicity braced herself up on her elbows, eyebrows raised.  She was having a difficult time with the speaking.  And the thinking.   What was he talking about, anyway?

Leaning down with a wicked teasing glint in his eye, Oliver whispered in her ear, “Because of the hair floating—”

“Ew!  _Oliver_.”  Apparently, _that_ was where her voice went.  Felicity was about to yell at him for ruining the mood when Oliver’s tongue flicked out to lap up the tequila and… guess the mood wasn’t ruined after all. 

Nope, not at all.  Felicity collapsed onto her back and arched her neck as the sensations rolled through her, one after another.

Oliver seemed done with the salt and lemon.  He just lapped at the tequila like a cat, generously bathing her flesh and making it impossible for Felicity’s hips to keep from making small pumping motions, even with his arm braced over her hips to keep her still.  He poured himself a second helping of tequila and this time closed his lips around the liquor and skin and sucked.  When the liquor was gone he moved his lips to her clit and gave that the same treatment.

“Ahhh…”  Felicity screamed the second his lips made contact, her hips flying up. 

But…no…no…no…if she didn’t get to finish Oliver off this way, then he wasn’t allowed to either.  Besides, this was the first 2nd time…or 3rd?  4th…? Last…It was their _last_ first time as an engaged couple and they were coming together!  God dammit!

Felicity shoved at Oliver…the big wall of unmovable muscle that he was.  “No!  Not like this…come ‘mere.”  She was pretty sure she sounded drunker than she actually was.

She was surprised when Oliver listened, moving and crawling up her body, kicking off his boxers as he did.  Finally, they were skin on skin and Felicity, honestly, couldn’t handle it, it felt so good.  She wrapped her arms and legs around him and lunged for his lips.

Oliver melted into the kiss, his lips, his hips, his entire body immediately falling in sync with hers, their bodies straining, their hips rolling together.  Now, all he had to do was shift and he would be inside and everything would be right with the world.  But when Felicity went to take his cock and guide him home, Oliver stopped her, grinning down at her, his skin flushed, his chest heaving.

“Wanna try something special?”

Well, didn’t _that_ just send a spark of electricity straight to her clit.  Special, huh?  Felicity lifted an eyebrow as she tried to catch her breath.  She would have thought that with everything that had happened tonight, it was already pretty _special_.  But far be it from her to keep him from aiming higher.   

Oliver looked pointedly across the room and Felicity’s eyes followed, then widened when she saw what he was looking at.  She had no idea _exactly_ what he had in mind, but…

“Yes, please.”

Chuckling, Oliver helped Felicity to her feet and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

“Please tell me you’re going to do the Salmon Ladder naked,” Felicity pleaded, wrapping her hands around his forearms to regain her balance.  “ _Ooooh,_ the fantasies I’ve had…”

“I’ve had fantasies as well and they’re better than that.” Oliver pulled away, grinning.  He let go of her with one last kiss to her ring finger.

To Felicity’s surprise, she was actually able to stay upright, but that didn’t mean she liked it.  “Don’t you tell me your fantasies are better than my fantasies,” she called after him.  Also, the way he left her standing there all naked and cold in the middle of the room…not gaining points for that one. 

Oliver sent her a wink, clearly taking her ever-so-seriously.  “You be the judge.  But first…” 

He stood at the Salmon Ladder and adjusted his grip.  It was on the bottom rung so Oliver had to bend his legs so he could hang from it and…dear _lord_ in heaven, he was doing it.  He was doing the Salmon Ladder naked… _aroused_ …and if it wasn’t the weirdest, sexiest thing on the planet, Felicity didn’t know what was.  Did that make her kinky?  She thought maybe it did.

Oliver swung his legs and his abdominals crunched and the bar swung up a rung and Felicity almost fainted. 

“Oh _God_ …” Felicity breathed, her knees weak.

Oliver threw her a smirk and swung up one more rung before dropping down and landing on his feet like a great cat.

“What!  What are you doing?”  What was with the stopping?  No!  No stopping.  There was _so_ much more left to see!

But Oliver ignored her, grabbing two of her yoga blocks and placing them flat on the floor under the bar. Then he turned to hold out his hand to Felicity.  She took it.  She wasn’t actually sure why, but she took it. 

“What are we doing?”  Felicity couldn’t comprehend how anything Oliver had planned could be better than what she just saw.

“You’ve had your fantasy, now we’re trying mine.”  Oliver guided her to stand on the bricks.  “How else are you going to be able to judge which one is better?”

“Does it have to be a competition?” Felicity asked, distractedly, as Oliver guided her to step onto the yoga blocks and brought her hands up to grasp the bar.  Even with the bricks, she was up on her toes once her fists closed around the cushioned steel.

“It doesn’t.”  Oliver stepped back to admire his handy work, his hands on his hips, as his eyes ran over her in a look so fiery that Felicity’s skin burned, her nipples tightened, her clit throbbed.  Then he stepped forward and whispered in her ear, pushing her hair out of her face, “But I’m still going to win.”

And, in that moment, Felicity was _quite_ certain he was right. 

Oliver ran his hands along the length of her upstretched arms.  “Are you okay like this?  Can you hold on?”

For some reason those words ratcheted Felicity’s arousal up even higher.

Her arms were strained and Felicity could tell that if she stayed like this, her muscles would burn, but there was something incredibly exciting about being stretched out like this, naked for Oliver.  And, God bless tequila, she didn’t even feel embarrassed.

“I’m good.  I’ve still got my wheelchair arms.”

Oliver gave her a soft, almost sad, look and Felicity grinned back to show him it was okay.  This was a good consequence.  A year ago, she never would have been able to hold herself stretched out like this, up on her toes for as long as it took to find out…whatever Oliver had planned.  And she really wanted to know what Oliver had planned. 

His answering smile turned radiant as he leaned in for another kiss.  They were almost of a height like this and the pressure of his lips against hers sent her swaying and she would have lost her footing if he hadn’t grabbed her around the waist and pulled her toward him.

It was an entirely new sensation, the bar above her, Oliver’s arm the only thing tethering her to the world.  It was a very different position, even for them, and they’d been _extra_ creative since getting back together.  Having once lost her mobility inspired Felicity to use her lower body in new and exciting ways. 

And this was certainly exciting.  Felicity applauded Oliver’s ingenuity (mentally, because hands…kind of occupied).  She’d tried to figure out how sex on the Salmon Ladder could realistically work _endless_ times, but had never gotten past her giving him a blow job while he was hanging…yeah, they were _so_ doing that too.

Oliver tilted his head and pulled her close for a plundering, if too short, kiss.  When he ended it, he moved down, skipping her neck completely and with a hand on her upper back, pulled her forward to close his mouth over a nipple.  Felicity totally lost her footing and…oh, the hell with it!  Giving up, she wrapped her legs around his hips and arched into him, clenching her fingers around the bar and holding on for dear life.

“My, you’re impatient,” Felicity breathed, because Oliver was kinda devouring her, though the argument could be made that he wasn’t impatient enough.  It was odd not being able to hold onto his head or to his hair, or, say…grab his cock.

Oliver let go of her nipple with a wet plop, murmuring, “You have _no_ idea.”  He gave that nipple one last flick with his tongue before moving to the other and giving it the same treatment.

“Then get on with it!” Felicity cried, wriggling and panting.   She couldn’t stand it much longer.  “Haven’t we had _enough_ foreplay?”

Felicity gasped as she suddenly felt two fingers enter her.  _God_ , that felt good.  She wanted to tell Oliver, but all her mouth seemed to be able to do was make loud keening, nonsense sounds.

“I’m not the only impatient one.”  And Felicity could hear the smirk in Oliver’s voice even with it as breathless and rough as it was.

The challenge in his tone helped Felicity find actual _words_ again.  “You bet your gorgeous booty, I am.  Now get _on_ with it.”

Oliver paused in the middle of suckling her nipple and laughed around her flesh…and, wow, didn’t _that_ feel incredible.  But before Felicity could even try to explain that her arms weren’t going to last that much longer, he whispered, “Yes, ma’am.”

He was so damn sexy when he said that. 

Oliver was standing in front of her, one hand on her ass, the other on the small of her back as she hung from the bar of the Ladder, her legs wrapped around his hips.  Lifting her ass just a bit, he kicked the yoga blocks she had previously been balancing on out of the way.  Then he shifted her so that his cock teased her folds.  Felicity threw back her head and bit her lip, eyes closed, waiting…

Oliver found the notch between her _other_ lips and…just let Felicity’s weight drop her onto his cock and…

“ _Oooohhh_ …Ahhh… God!”  It was _fantastic_.  Felicity felt so full and it made her want to scream and what was the point of a bunker if she couldn’t scream as loud as she wanted during spectacular post-engagement Salmon Ladder sex?

“ _Oliver_!  God… _yes_!”

Once the cries started, Felicity couldn’t seem to stop them and Oliver seemed to love it so why bother trying? 

Oliver’s thrusts set her swinging.  His hands kneaded her ass and kept her positioned so that Felicity was pressed against him just right, his pubic bone grinding against her clit, her nipples rubbing against and being teased by his sweaty pecs.  It was incredible and she couldn’t open her eyes, didn’t want to, because there were _fireworks_ behind her eyelids.

Felicity thought she would lose her grip on the bar as she came, but instead, all her muscles went taut and her fists locked around it.  The pleasure reverberated through her tense muscles, intensifying the sensations with each wave, spreading through her entire body, to her fingertips and toes.  It was fantastic, exceptional…oh _God_ …

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….”

Felicity was barely cognizant of Oliver prying her now cramped fingers off the bar and her arms falling limply to his shoulders.  He lifted her off his still hard cock…

“What?  No!” Felicity protested, blinking in attempt to make her brain start working again.  “What are you _doing_?”

Oliver gave her a kiss, short and sweet.  “We’re not done.  Do you think you can stand for a minute?”

Felicity nodded, though, when she stopped to think about it she wasn’t sure at all.  When Oliver set her on her feet, away from the Salmon Ladder, she was definitely wobbly.  But she focused on what he was doing and did her best not to fall into a heap.

She watched as Oliver carried the padded bench the team (not Felicity) used to lift weights and placed it under the Salmon Ladder, parallel to the bar.  Her heart rate accelerated again, her arousal, having cooled after that amazing orgasm, skyrocketed again, leaving her sensitive flesh throbbing.  She had no idea what he had planned, but she was _certain_ it was going to be _incredible_.

Oliver lifted the bar down and placed it back on the bottom rung, then turned to Felicity and held out a hand, “You up for this?”

Felicity grabbed his hand and held tight.  _Oh_ she was _up_ for this.  Her muscles may be limp noodles, but she was so _so_ doing this, what _ever_ this was.  Even if she collapsed in the middle…or preferably at the end. 

“As long as you are,” and Felicity giggled as the innuendo popped out unplanned.

“Funny,” Oliver commented dryly, pulling her to him, his voice thick.  “Kneel on this, sweetheart.” 

Felicity let Oliver guide her onto the bench and arrange her with her knees apart and her back up straight so that she could rest her arms and breasts on the soft grip of the bar, her hands clenched on either side of her body.  She felt even more exposed like this and it was incredibly exciting.

She threw a look over her shoulder and smiled at Oliver, who was standing there, looking at her with overwhelming appreciation.  “Like what you see?”

“You have _no_ idea.”  Oliver ran his hand over her back and ass until his fingers found her wet folds and lingered.  “Ready?  I…uh…I’m going to lose it soon.”

Um… _finally_.  Felicity had no idea how the man lasted so damn long.  Not that she was complaining.  “Go ahead then.  Fuck me, already!”

“Jesus!” Oliver gasped.  He always did when Felicity talked dirty, it was one of the reasons she tried to do it so sparingly.  Maximize the impact. 

He grabbed her hips and slammed into her so hard, she whimpered.  It was good.  _So_ good.  Oliver’s chest came in contact with her spine and Felicity threw her head back so it rested on his shoulder.  His lips found the crook of her neck and latched on. 

Oliver’s hands came over hers on the bar, his fingers fitting between hers as they curled around the padding.  Their rings were side by side, clinking softly with every thrust.  The sight brought tears to Felicity’s eyes.

“ _Oliver_ …”

He turned his head and leaned into her, nipping at her lips, but the angle is all wrong, so he just pressed his face into the space between her neck and shoulder and slammed into her.  Again. And again.  And again.

“Can’t.  Felicity…Can’t…”

“Kay.”   It was all the encouragement Felicity could muster.  Oliver was killing her in the best possible way.  She couldn’t take much more.  Her breasts throbbed and when her nipples caught the edge of the bar, it sent this incredible wave of sensation… “ _Come_ for me,” she pleaded.

Oliver let out a growl and brought his right hand over to cup Felicity’s mound.  His fingers found her clit, trapping it between his fingers, making her scream again.  Oh _God_.  How could it _possibly_ keep getting better?   Oh God…too much…too _much_ ….

His stance shifted and Oliver started _really_ pounding into her.  Her legs were sweaty and they slipped against the leather seats of the bench.  Felicity wrapped her right arm under the bar and held on for dear life, her cheek falling against the bar as she rode it out.  Wave after wave…and dear God and…Oliver and ….

Felicity screamed again, howling really, but it was drowned out by Oliver’s roar as they came together.  How romantic was that?

Now _that_ was how one did Post Engagement sex.  Booyah.

She was only vaguely aware of being lifted off the bench and brought to the mat, of being laid down gently on the blanket she had brought for their picnic.  Reaching out blindly, Felicity found Oliver’s warm body next to hers and rolled half on top of him.

“Love you,” Oliver murmured, one hand falling onto the back of her head and the other curling around her waist.

“Love you, too.”  Lord, he felt wonderful.  “So glad…” Felicity couldn’t hold back a yawn.  “So glad you’re going to marry me.”

Felicity thought Oliver said, “Me too,” but she must have drifted off, because the next thing she knew, she was jolting upright to the sound of Thea’s screaming voice.

At first, Felicity thought it must be a bad dream.  Then she realized the voice was coming from the intercom.

“ _Ollie!  Where are you!  And why is there a **wolf** keeping us from getting into the bunker_?!”

It was followed by a distinctive growl, fiercer than any Felicity had heard before, then several loud, menacing barks. 

“ _Jesus_...” And that wasn’t Thea.  It was…   “ _That’s not a wolf.  It’s a fox.  It’s a Giant Wolf-Fox hybrid monster and it’s gonna kill us_!”  That was Roy and it made Felicity smile, even though her friends _may_ actually be in serious danger from Locksley.  “ _Thea!”_  

It was at that point that Oliver burst out laughing.  And the sound set off Felicity’s giggles.  She was probably still a little drunk.

Smiling, she lifted her head and looked at her gorgeous, happy fiancé.  Oliver didn’t seem to be at all concerned that their dog may be preparing to kill his sister and her boyfriend.  “We should probably call off our guard dog.”

“Guess the honeymoons over.”  Oliver nodded, but he was smiling as he said it.

That was okay.  As far as Felicity was concerned, they had managed to not only get engaged _without_ interruption, but they had also managed to have the best engagement sex anyone had ever had… _ever_.   She was pretty much ready to handle anything the world threw at them. 

“I’m rather partial to real life, anyway,” Felicity responded with a contented sigh.

Oliver sat up, twinning their left hands and kissing Felicity’s ring finger.  “I’m good with anything as long as I’m with you.”

“Sap.”

“ _Ollie_!!!”

 

 

**   **   **    **   **   **   **  **  **  **  **   **

 

 

On Monday, the morning of October 10, 2016, Star City Mayor, Oliver Queen, held a press conference.  He introduced, Roger Harper, cousin of the infamous _Roy_ Harper, as his new personal bodyguard.  And if the bearded man looked suspiciously like his “cousin” no one seemed to care, because Mayor Queen was wearing a platinum band on his left hand and Palmer Tech CEO, Felicity Smoak, just to his right, was wearing the very same thee carat diamond she had worn all those months ago.

Mayor Queen made it very clear that he had _not_ eloped, much to everyone’s disappointment and relief (no one was okay with missing _that_ wedding).  But he _was_ engaged again (and that meant a huge wedding that the entire West Coast was _dying_ to see).  The mayor explained that they would be seeing a lot of his new bling, because his lovely fiancé felt that it was sexist for just woman to have engagement rings.

They may have just started a trend.

 

 

 

**   **   **    **   **   **   **  **  **  **  **   **

 

 

**Felicity’s Green Arrow**

1-part Tequila

1-part Blue Curacao

2-parts Midori Melon Liqueur

2-parts Lemonade

2-parts Sweet and Sour mix

 

Combine all ingredients in shaker. 

Pour over ice. 

Wait one minute for full green color to appear.

 

**   **   **    **   **   **   **  **  **  **  **   **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thant’s all, folks.  I hope you liked it.  Who am I kidding, I hope you _loved_ it.  Blood, sweat, and tears went into this smut, people.  And more than anything I just hope you were able to picture the final scene in your heads.  It was _so_ hard to write. 
> 
> But no matter what, I’m very glad I wrote this, so I’m grateful to everyone who put together the OFBB, inspiring this and so many other great stories and pieces of art.  I so hope someone steps forward to do this again.
> 
> And for those of you who can (and do) drink, you have the _Green Arrow_ just in time for the Season 5 premiere ;-).  My husband and I spent a night, and a lot of wasted alcohol, to come up with it.  It would have been a lot easier if Felicity didn’t insist that it have tequila in it.  And that it didn’t have to be green.
> 
> Because stories have trouble just ending, I do have a head full of plot bunnies for this universe.  My idea is a series called “ _When Locksely Met_ …”, starting with Thea and Roy and covering a wide range of characters all the way up to and including a little Olicity baby.  If there is interest, please, let me know, though right now I’m neck deep in _Another Kind of Island_.  “The Fall Season” of that will be out October 9 and this coming Sunday I’ll post a full schedule and some art on Tumblr.
> 
> An extra special thank you to **Ireland1733** for all her awesome art and all her even more awesome support.  And to **Fairytalehearts** who went back and forth with me on this one a dozen times to try and make it work.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who as commented or kudoed.  If you haven’t already, it’s never too late to share the love  ;-)
> 
> Emmy
> 
> http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> Tequila was pretty much my drink of choice in college (500 years ago), not because I liked the taste, but… I have no idea…I think I thought it was romantic or something.  I always enjoyed the ritual and this was how we drank it.  With lemon.  I’m sure many of you have your own way and feel free to share, but this is how we did it.  Though, we also did tequila in lime or strawberry jello shots in med school and that was pretty yummy.
> 
> I’m not an alcoholic.  I promise. 
> 
> I have four more dates for this series.  It _is_ complete.  The next one is “Date 3: Scotch, Neat” and it will be posted next Thursday.  In fact, there should be a new chapter every Thursday in September.
> 
> And here is where I give my Oscar speech even though I haven’t won anything.  I’d like to thank everyone who worked so hard to make the OFBB possible, especially **Runawayminds** who came in half-way through and made everything happen. 
> 
> Thank you to [**raynadrawssomestuff**](http://raynadrawssomestuff.tumblr.com/) for coming in and being willing to make art for my little story when there weren’t enough artists to go around.  The title page is beautiful and I love it.  Thank you to Manon my OFBB cheerleader for helping me through the months when I wasn’t allowed to post and get feedback.
> 
> Thank you to **ireland1733** for all the emotional support and for always being there for my stories, for my fandom freak-outs and my real-life drama.  Not to mention her lovely chapter art!! 
> 
> And last, I want to mention my beta, **Fairytalehearts** and, also, give a little plug for her OFBB story.  I had the pleasure of returning the favor for the OFBB and being her beta for her story _The Last Time_.  I’ve worked with her with this story for months and months and it really is exceptional.  One of the most original pieces you will see on the Olicity fandom. 
> 
> _The Last Time_ is an incredibly smart time travel story where Felicity joins the crew of the Wave Rider bouncing throughout time to try and fix the mess that was made by Oliver and Felicity NOT being together.  Everyone head over and read it (and leave her some love for this awesome story!)
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Emmy
> 
>  


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